Baby Love
by Flint and Feather
Summary: A series of looks into the lives of Hellboy and Liz Sherman as they raise their twin babies in their B.P.R.D. home. Movieverse. Please read and review. Concerns are raised as the children progress, and darker events occur in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1 Babysitting

**Disclaimer: **Hellboy and Liz Sherman are owned by Mike Mignola and Dark Horse for the comics, and by Guillermo del Toro, Revolution Studios and Universal Studios for the feature films. Only the story is mine.

* * *

Hellboy had suggested that she go outside of the B.P.R.D. complex to shop, relax at a salon with a massage, hairstyling, whatever she wanted. Liz Sherman agreed it would be a welcome break for a busy mother of twins. As she was about to leave their quarters, she smiled as Red leaned down to kiss her, and sneaked a fold of cash into her hand.

Liz had been out for three enjoyable hours, but was glad to return home. Inside the door, she set down some parcels, took off her coat, then listened and looked around for her family. Some partition walls, full and half, had been added to make the one open room a more suitable living area. Where were her demon mate and her rather overgrown twin babies?

Then she heard Red's cheerful exclamation from a back room.

"Let's go again! Ten reps!"

Approaching quietly, Liz concealed herself by the half wall and looked in to see her twins each wrapping their little arms and legs around their father's forearms. Kneeling, Red lifted them off the floor to his shoulder height, his arms out to his sides.

"Aarrgh!" he snarled with mock exertion.

"Aaah!" answered two delighted baby voices.

Liz had to clap her hand to her mouth to stifle laughter as she watched nine more lifts, accompanied by Dad's exaggerated grunting and the babies' gleeful imitations. What a noisy trio!

Red followed up with placing the kids on his back, ready for pushups.

"Trevor, Gentan – count for me, now," he instructed, and pushed himself off the floor.

"One! Grrr!"

The kids' fists clung to his shirt and they loudly copied him on every lift with their own high pitched giggling roars and unintelligible syllables.

For the next exercise, her husband lay on his back. It was then that he discovered Liz watching, and gave her a thumbs up for her pleasing appearance. She leaned her arms on the partition to spectate in amused silence as he sat his son and daughter in the palms of his hands. They grabbed onto his fingers before he turned his wrists to the press position. He would have to teach them the uses of their tails.

"Yaah!" He straightened his arms, raising them high. And again, they did their excited mightiest with every lift, to holler along with their father, until they were hiccupping. He set them down and started to fix up their rumpled shirts and pants, when Liz joined them, letting her laughter go.

"Trust you to combine the play with your workout!" she teased, sitting down by him and taking Trevor onto her lap. Hellboy held his daughter in the bend of his arm and brushed back her fuzzy black bangs.

"I think I messed up your hair, Darlin," he crooned, kissing her.

"They'll sleep well tonight," Liz smiled, removing Trevor's thumb from his mouth, "but now I know we've got the strongest and loudest kids ever."


	2. Chapter 2 Snugli

Best thing to do was to throw himself into it, Hellboy figured. His newborn children with Liz were believed to be three quarters human, and one quarter – of him. Though neither of the new parents had experience caring for babies, let alone unique hybrid infants, they would learn. A staff nurse had been assigned to visit and instruct them. Watching her sure manner of holding and handling the babies, Hellboy thought he could do as well.

He'd been excused from Bureau duties for a month, unless there was urgent need for him in the field. On their first day and night of living with their twin little son and daughter in Hellboy's previous bachelor pad, they felt stunned – delighted and a little scared, but stunned, as they sat up in bed, cuddling. With the babies' cribs close by, the new parents kept awkwardly alert.

"I don't think I want to sleep," Liz worried, "but they'll be up early, and before that, they need feeding every two hours."

"We'll take turns," Red told her, reaching to set the alarm clock to buzz. But this first night, they were both up for all the feedings. It was just too exciting. Each holding a baby and a bottle, they had no struggle to stay awake, lost in fascination. This was their second intense love affair. Tapping and rubbing Trevor's little back, Hellboy looked at Liz to question if he was doing it right. A small burp answered him.

"That's my boy," he smiled.

They put clean babies back into their cribs, and Red pulled up chairs so he and Liz could sit by and watch them sleep.

"When Pop found me," Hellboy said quietly, "I was already a pretty fast mover, he told me, and I could jump the same heights as a cat."

"I've heard," his wife acknowledged, "but you were more of a toddler, not a newborn, I guess?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "How could anybody know?"

"So, we have an idea what to expect?" she asked, peering closer into the cribs.

"Geez, I wish."

* * *

The multiple daily duties, he handled in a willing, but rather clumsy way, but nobody seemed to mind a twisty diaper or dribbled formula. Liz did most things neater and better, and was encouraging of his efforts. He took his turns for the overnight feedings. He hit upon his own strategy to feed both at the same time. Leaning the twins inside his right arm, he held one bottle in his left hand, and the other in a curl of his agile tail. When the nurse happened to find him at ease with his solution one day, she stood watching with her arms crossed, appraising his inventiveness in silent amusement.

"How am I doing, Sheila?" Red asked her, setting down the empty bottles.

"This, I should have imagined," she grinned, "and I can hardly wait for what comes next."

There came a time a month later that the twins' own hands were clutching their bottles, and caving them in with the strength of their grips. When Liz' long hair came under attack in the unrelenting hold of little fingers, she needed Hellboy to tease open the baby fists.

"Oohh," she moaned, rubbing the sore spots on her head, "I should cut my hair."

"No, don't do that, Liz," Red implored, holding their daughter Gentan a safe distance away. "Keep it, but just tie it back?"

His eyes were so earnest, she nodded to agree. Since they were both looking a bit wrung out with their care duties, she wanted to hang onto every bit of attractiveness possible. She was feeling a little dumpy, not the sleek sylph that she used to be.

Not long after, Sheila introduced Red to a device custom made for him.

"And what's this?" he asked, turning over the tangle of circular heavy nylon straps in his hands, "a harness for _me_?"

"Well, yes," the nurse said. "It goes like this -" and she put his arms through the straps, arranging them to set on his shoulders and across his back, then snapped the free ends together at the front of his torso. He put his hands on his hips, looking at Sheila with amused suspicion.

"Now what?"

"This is made to hold a couple of sturdy fabric seats, so you can carry the twins in front. Do you like it?"

"I'm going to try it out right now!" he exclaimed. "Hitch me up to my kids, will ya?"

Liz watched closely as the baby seats were fastened to the strapping. She brought Gentan to him and lowered her carefully into one seat, adjusting her legs and tail through the openings.

Sheila balanced the load by setting Trevor into the adjoining carrier.

"You can carry them facing out, the way they are now, or facing you," Sheila explained. "Either position, they have the comfort of feeling and hearing your heartbeat."

Hellboy passed his hands over the straps and carrier fastenings, to convince himself of their strength.

"I'm going for a walk, Liz," he told her, patting her cheek. "Take a nap."

Liz and Sheila watched him leave, then looked at each other, giggling.

"I'm not strong enough for that," Liz said, "and hopefully, will never get so wide. Now, I'm really looking forward to that nap."

The women said their goodbyes, and Liz slid gratefully under her blankets.

* * *

Striding through the corridors, Hellboy found that he really liked this hands free way of carrying the kids. They could wave their arms and kick their legs as they pleased, and he could breathe in the nice soap scent of their hair. As they walked, they seemed to pay rapt attention while he explained the surroundings to them.

Uh-oh, there was Agent Brown, hurrying up to him.

"Can I see, please?" she asked excitedly, as four gold-brown wide eyes looked back at her with fascination. She cooed over their wealth of black hair and the style of their sleepers. She wasn't sure how else she should comment about the babies' smooth red complexions, their little tails contentedly curling, and small forming buds of horns. "Just so precious!" she complimented. "Where do you take them around here?"

"They like to be on the move," Red answered, as she fell into step beside him. "I'm showing them the transport garage."

"Why there?" she asked.

"Cause they haven't seen it yet."

"Well, how old are they now?"

"Just hit six weeks," replied the father.

Agent Brown's eyebrows shot up as she silently estimated the weight of each child to be over twenty pounds. Sensing that more questions would be unwelcome, she nodded to him,

"Thanks, Hellboy," and went on her way.

After a short stop to show the kids the Squeaky-Clean garbage truck, and describing it in insulting terms, Red decided that Transport smelled too much of fuel and paint, and headed elsewhere. The most enjoyable place would be the library, to make a visit to Uncle Abe.

Abe Sapien set down his reading as he saw his friend come through the tall golden doors with his children fixed onto his chest. He stood to walk up and greeted Red with, "Well, this _is_ ingenious! Tell me about – um.." he faltered.

"I don't know what to call it," Red answered. "I think our nurse invented it."

He chose to sit on the library step below the inviting fireplace, carefully checking for the comfort of the kids' dangling legs.

"You are quite the natural father, Red," smiled Abe, sitting beside him. "They are so serene with you."

"That won't last much longer," Red nodded knowingly to his best friend. "Time for feeding is coming soon."

The friends passed some ten minutes enjoying each other's company, but when Abe's duty alarm sounded with its repetitive low tone and flashing blue light, it was joined by a red light, an alert for the demon. As the babies became instantly restless at the new noise, Hellboy covered their ears before he growled, "Aw, crap!" Sensing their father's agitation, they began to whine.

Hellboy jumped up to get on his way home, restricting his walk to a fast, smooth stride, with the babies at full howl.

"Dad has to go to work, Babes," he apologized, "Could you pleeease keep it down, just a little?"


	3. Chapter 3 Wanting

**A/N: This is an M designated chapter for loving, but that can't be bad, can it? Addresses the tribulations of a new mother's body image.  
**

* * *

"Sheila, I hope you're going to tell me I'm ready," Liz said to her nurse confidante.

"I see nothing to prevent you. It's six weeks since the births. Has Red been impatient?"

"He hasn't said a thing about it," Liz answered. "I want my husband, but _look_ at me!"

"I hope you don't mind me saying, if it was me, I'd be rather – afraid of him."

"He's fearsome at work, not at home," Liz dismissed, "but it's my body that's flabby, not his."

"You don't strike me as someone lacking confidence," soothed Sheila, "You're young, and you'll snap back into shape before you know it. Don't be so hard on yourself, and take the time."

Liz nodded thoughtfully, knowing that her best option was to regain her sensible self – but it wasn't always that easy.

...

On his return from three days on the job, Red assured Liz that he had no injuries, but he so often downplayed when they happened, that she could never be certain.

"And what about you?" he deflected, "You look – kind of tired out, Babe."

She hadn't been able to muster the energy to get dressed for the day. "Tired and fat," she answered, self deprecating. "Nothing fits me."

Slightly frowning, he shook his head to disagree. Red thought she was quite pretty in her loose long slinky nightgown, but as she gathered her robe tightly around herself to conceal her midsection, he saw more than a little misery as she made a forced effort to smile. Even trying to compliment her these days, wasn't met very well. Sometimes, he just didn't know what to do for her. He had known the privilege, celebrated the honour of living with a woman who'd been pregnant with his children. This aftermath of her moods was another kind of adventure. Of course, Liz had every reason to feel tired.

She leaned on him with fatigue verging on weakness. He walked her to the couch and held her as she clung to him. He thought she might even cry, but she simply fell asleep against his chest for half an hour. Red stayed vigilant, listening for signs of the kids becoming active. Deciding that everyone's silence gave him a few minutes, he carefully laid Liz down without waking her, and grabbed a fast shower.

But his next thing to do, was to take the restless kids out of their cribs to another room before they disturbed their mother. As young as they were, the twins were capable of their own brand of roughhousing with Dad. Crawling over him, they would grab fistfuls of his shirt and hang on tight, inflicting plenty of pinches with their short fingernails. They had also discovered the satisfying sounds of smacking Dad and Mom with their open hands.

With her sense of duty subconsciously nagging at her, Liz woke up and went to find everybody. Hearing Red say "Ow!", more than once, she knew her family was in the room where they usually played on the carpeted floor. As it looked to her that Hellboy was forcing himself to enjoy the kids' antics, she reached down to pick up Trevor, grunting with the effort, but her son refused to release his grip.

"Give Dad a break," she cooed to him, "He just got home from work! I'm glad they're so healthy, but how do we teach these two to be more gentle?" she huffed.

"It'll work out, Babe," he answered. "They're just discovering what they can do—and maybe I taught them some of that."

Red sat up and pulled his shirt over his head, freeing up everyone.

"Bedtime for Doubledown!" he crowed, sweeping Gentan off the floor. After plenty of splashing, the twins settled down from their excitement in a warm bath, and when they were re-dressed in sleepers, Hellboy carried them to their cribs. Their father stayed by watching until their eyes fluttered closed, and small fists lay inoffensive in repose.

"Wow," he said softly, wondering, "Was I rough like that?"

"I hope they sleep as hard as they play," Liz whispered, with her forehead on Red's shoulder, "at least long enough..."

Shaking off his previous thought to realize what Liz was telling him, Red turned to her and waited.

"We've only been making love around the edges," she said, reaching up her hand to touch the side of his neck. "I want us to get back to normal."

"And I want my wife." His intimate purr rumbled through his chest to her ear, and Liz looked up to meet the warm intent of his golden eyes.

She let her bathrobe fall to the floor as he lifted her in his arms, and brought her to their bed in several sure, direct strides. He set her down and stood up to strip. Watching him, she held her breath. When he joined her, she laid her head on his outstretched left arm.

"We can be a little quiet," she whispered.

"We can do that," he agreed, gathering her close to his side.

With her palm at his cheek, she touched her lips to the corner of his mouth. Turning to meet the soft contact, he felt the familiar but long-denied stirring low in his belly as they opened to each other, tasting, exploring. Her face nestled against his as they shared the caresses of their lips.

"Red," she said quietly between kisses, "I'm going to keep wearing a little cover."

"Mm, why?"

"Just until I get back in shape. Or we keep the lights out."

"I wouldn't like that...at all." Hellboy murmured his protest, nuzzling her cheek. He saw her as beautiful to him as ever, but no sense trying to convince her after she'd made up her mind. She felt confident enough to lower her gown to cover only her middle. Most important to him was the fact of the glow of light on their bodies, while her arms surrounded his back, and her softness melted into his chest. She thrilled to the pantherish power of his arms taking her close, to roaming her hands downward until she held the backs of his impossibly firm thighs. Her eager fingers followed the flexing of every rugged muscle crawling beneath his warm red skin, as they smoothed and contracted. She guided the caresses of his flesh hand, silently showing him that all of her fuller curves, except the loose skin of her belly, craved his touch. Easily accepting the limits, Hellboy retraced the path of his hand with all the pleasures and passions his mouth could arouse. She heard his sly whisper, "For you, Babe."

Her tremulous sighs as she tilted up higher to meet him, bent back her head helplessly into her pillow, and quivered with the luxury of longed for sensations, set his pulse racing. Wringing the last gasp from her, he slowly pushed himself up to straight arms. She reached to brace on his shoulders and edged her way beneath him, letting her eyes speak her bold desire. Her hands stroked with lingering sensuality down his hard sides, then held his waist, urging him to be buried in her depths.

"For us," she breathed.

"But, easy." His soft gaze lingered on her face, waiting for her to give some little sign of agreement.

She purred at his first blunt push, and his testing, steady pressure bore down until his torso lowered more and gradually, to join their chests. Bearing his weight on his lower arms, he let her feel the shudder of his tight breathing, his head bowed to her shoulder.

"It's like – you're all new," he whispered.

Liz pulled him against her with all the might of her arms around his back, as he began the rhythm of lust, smooth and slow. She felt carried away as she had yearned to be, and at the same time safe, recovering the woman she remembered. She savoured his broken sighs, every considerate stroke of his strength as his eyes held hers for her guidance. Yes. Faster. Harder.

She read that her lover's concern still interfered as he was near to letting the passion take him over. Liz urged him on with her every yearning to see him finally consumed with relieving satisfaction, at long last, joined to her body.

Almost immediately as Red fell to his back, she reached for him again, holding tight. Mystified as she muffled sobs against his shoulder, he embraced her to wait it out. As soon as she could speak quietly under control, she lifted her head. "I-I missed this so much."

Feeling a lot of relief in her words, but still not quite understanding her tears, Hellboy answered, "So did I, Babe. It was as great as the first time."

Wrapped up in her own thoughts, she went on, "I wasn't taking care of you. I wasn't being your partner-"

"You took care of me fine," he interrupted, "and we took a break because we were doing what we had to, I know that." He held her chin, leaning closer. "Now, anything else to say?"

She kissed his ear and whispered, "It _was_ as great as the first time."

...

The kids' carrier was a lifesaver. Hellboy used it most days to take the twins out, giving Liz time for herself. As they grew, Red took the seats to the transport's upholstery and metal shops to have larger copies made. Anderson, the millwright, handed Red the new set, sized to fit the twins at age four months.

"I can make an outsized reinforced double stroller for Liz," Anderson offered.

"I'll take you up on that, after they learn better manners," Hellboy grinned.

"Hard to handle, are they?"

"Not for me," Red admitted, "but I'm not always at home."

...

Red asked Abe to come over for a visit while Liz was away at the gym. The merman took a seat opposite the couch where Red was settled. The twins stood on the floor by their father's legs, supporting themselves with their hands on his knees, staring at the blue man who studied them with equal interest.

"At this early age, they are standing!" marvelled Abe.

"If they start walking soon, it'll be easier on Liz," Hellboy added. "They're getting too heavy for her to lift."

"May I, young lady?" Abe asked, approaching to kneel by the children.

Red held up his hand. "Just a warning, Blue. Watch out for the mitts. They can pinch pretty hard."

"Yes, I remember," Abe replied, "and if anything, they will be stronger now."

Abe offered his palm to Gentan, and she responded by gripping his thumb, bringing it to her mouth, and opening her lips to display her two front teeth.

"They're like little wild animals, grab and eat," chuckled Hellboy, as his friend carefully extracted his thumb from the baby's grasp. "We're trying something to make them understand."

Abe sat back on his knees, listening while attempting to amuse Trevor into a smile.

"And what is that?"

"When we play with them, and they hurt us, we stand up and turn away quiet for about ten seconds," Red explained.

"And so they should connect the offensive behaviour with a short loss of your attention," Abe concluded. "Is it working?"

"Getting better. They have to show respect for Liz before they get bigger. It can't be about who's the strongest."

Abe nodded. "It is a serious consideration."

"And my most laid-back cat could help out."

"I know you would allow no injuries in attempting to teach gentleness to a pet, but a cat's claws-" cautioned Abe.

"When I found this guy last year, he didn't have any."

"I see you have it well thought out," Abe approved, "and do invite me to observe this in action, since this is the only one of your cats that I would trust in a room with a fish."


	4. Chapter 4 Cat Therapy

Hellboy walked up behind his wife as she stood at the kitchen counter, stacking clean dishes.

"Liz, go on down to see Anderson at Transport," he suggested.

"Now? Why?" she asked.

"Go and see," he answered, with an air of mystery.

Liz gave him a playful side gaze.

"All right," she agreed. "Will I be gone long?"

"You know how much he likes to talk. It's up to you."

"Then I'll see you later." Liz came up close to Red, who was holding both children in his arms, and planted kisses on three faces. As she picked up a light jacket and headed away to the door, the youngsters seemed to hold their breaths as they watched the departure of their mother, then let go with wails of distress.

"Oh, great," Hellboy muttered. Beginning to pace the room, he bounced them gently, but they were in no mood to quit. "It's okay, it's okay," he crooned, feeling a little stupid. He should have known better than to let them see her go. They cried whenever he left home, too. Liz told him how they had once speedily crawled to the door as it was closing behind him, then sat there with their tails curled up tight in misery, inconsolable for several minutes, no matter what she did to cheer them up.

He carried them to the playroom, hoping to distract them with some of their toys. And they needed to be the toughest of toys. Anything stuffed, they pulled to pieces with their new teeth and strong little hands. Not too surprising that his kids were so physical. If one or both ever began to show signs of inheriting the pyrokinetic abilities of their mother, well, that would have to be dealt with, too.

Down on the carpet with Trevor and Gentan, Red was always in peril of becoming their favourite toy, especially since they now delighted themselves with biting down on anything and anybody. Why they didn't make these attacks on each other was a happy and merciful mystery.

* * *

In the transport section, Liz was taking instruction from Anderson, the crafter of a wonderful three-wheeled twin stroller. Actually, the wheels were large ball casters, which enabled the contraption to circle smoothly in place, and assured that little hands couldn't get a grasp on them in motion. He showed Liz how to manually set the brake over the front caster. A padded safety bar could be lowered in front of the formed pair of bucket seats with side walls, and the millwright had added T-shaped retaining belts.

"No slippage," he beamed with pride.

"I see you've heard about my kids, and thanks!" Liz said, admiring the sturdy construction. "What do we owe you?"

"Been looked after," said Anderson. "Roll it in good health."

Liz made her way home along the corridors, pushing the stroller ahead of her, getting some amused looks from the passing staff.

One of the agents observed, "That says Anderson all over it."

"All over it," Liz agreed, tossing him a little nod as she went.

Bringing it inside, Liz heard silence at home. Hellboy came quietly from a back room.

"Napping," he informed in his lowered voice. "And here it is! How do you like it?"

"I like it," Liz pronounced, "because it looks escape proof and rolls like it's on air."

Kneeling to take a close look at the design, Red gave a low whistle. "See how the frame balances the load?"

"The seats lock in place, but they can be turned to face front or back," Liz pointed out.

"Spud Anderson made it in his spare time," said Red, "What a guy."

"Pushing my big babies around the indoor jogging track should be all the cardio I need," she smiled.

"And I've been thinking..." mused Red, "that they can get introduced to Raptor, before we maybe get some other kids in here to play with."

"They need to be socialized and get used to other people, and if they learn to be gentle with Raptor first, it will be a start," Liz agreed.

* * *

As promised, Abe was a guest on the day that Hellboy went out for a short while, then returned carrying a large cat which looked about placidly at the room's occupants, slowly blinking its amber eyes. When he set it down, it walked around his legs, slinking its sides against him affectionately.

"What an impressive feline!" Abe admired, "What breed? It doesn't look common."

"I searched," Liz answered, "and Raptor is a Maine Coon cat, pretty special. His kind was bred to be big and hardy, to live aboard cold fishing boats and kill vermin."

"Raptor," repeated Abe, taking in the sight of the cat, now rolled onto its back and stretching to a length of nearly three feet, "A rather dangerous name. Why did you choose it?"

"No good reason," Hellboy shrugged.

"He lives to love," said Liz, kneeling to ruffle the cat's thick chest fur, which raised a rumbling, continuous purr. Raptor stretched up his heavy-boned front legs, curling and spreading first one white paw, then the other. The tip of his exceedingly bushy tail flipped back and forth. The rest of him was as luxuriously thickly furred in a pattern of striped brown, gray and white.

Taken to the playroom, Raptor flopped onto his side in the center. Bringing in the twins, Liz and Red sat on the floor several feet from the cat. The little ones stared, engrossed with the new creature, but gave no reaction until Raptor flipped his tail. At that, Trevor stood himself up in the circle of Red's arm, and screeched with delight. The startled cat gained his feet instantly and bounded smoothly to the top of the partition wall, where the object of wonder sat with his tail lazily swishing and washing a paw. Abe remained in the corner, observing the family. Gentan stretched her arms forward as far as possible, from her seat on Liz' lap. Raptor decided to jump down to walk back to Red. As Trevor raised his hand to slap down on the cat, Hellboy caught the blow on the back of his hand. Taking Trevor's wrist, he showed him how to enjoy petting long strokes down the furry back. Liz came closer with Gentan, who leaned out of her arms to take an acceptable light hold on Raptor's ear. When she bent down with purpose to taste it, Liz pulled her back slightly, and also showed her the way to pet the cat's head. Raptor responded by placing his front paws on Liz' knee and stretching up to give Gentan's cheeks a nuzzle with both sides of his face. The baby chortled happily. Quiet with awed fascination, the children were allowed up close to the cat to listen to his rolling purr, and he acted as Hellboy knew he would, tapping the kids' faces gently with his soft, rounded paws.

Red and Liz also expected shrieks of joy from them, so Abe moved in to help Liz distract the kids while Red covertly picked up Raptor to take him home.

"For the first session, the results have been quite satisfying," Abe assessed, "Where are you taking him?"

"Raptor lives in the cat domain, down the hall from here," Liz explained, as Red settled him on the inside of his stone arm, "and Red visits there every day, to make sure they all get their cuddle time."

Red might have blushed at that, but who would know? He gave Abe a mock-sheepish hitch of his lip and swung out the door with Raptor.

* * *

After the next morning's breakfast, the twins, each weighing thirty five pounds, were seated and buckled into their new stroller. Given toys and biscuits to occupy them, they were wheeled out by their mother.

"I'll show Anderson how fun his invention is, before I go to the track," she called over her shoulder to Hellboy.

He watched her little behind as she walked away, and called back, "Great action, Babe."

Liz had plenty of interruptions as she made her way through the corridors. Everyone she encountered wanted to meet the only babies in residence at the Bureau, let alone that this family belonged to Hellboy, and ask questions. It delayed her, but was good for the kids to see more of other people. When she finally reached Transport and asked for Anderson, the big millwright looked pleased.

"Maiden voyage, eh?" he smiled, "Such a hearty pair of babies, too."

Entering the gym's running track, she met Tom Manning on his way out.

He folded his arms, looking long at the children.

"Well, well," he said a little uncomfortably, "they, uh – almost look like real babies."

Liz glared at the boss. "Real babies are the only kind I have!" And she pushed the kids towards the track. She began a light jog, and was happy with the smooth operation of the stroller, easy at the turns. The seats had been reversed so the children could see her, adding to their contentment with the continuous movement of the exercise interval.

When she had completed her half hour, Liz headed for a visit to the big weight room.

She found Red spotting at the press bench for another agent. She waved to him after he'd finished. Seeing him, the twins began to bounce and babble. Slinging his towel around his neck, Red was about to leave with his family, but one of the men called, "Wait up, Red!"

And five agents sauntered over to get their look at his children. The guys were a little tongue-tied about what to say, as was to be expected. One surprisingly asked to be allowed to hold them to guess their weights. Hellboy gave him warning, but this stranger suffered no more than a few slaps of little red hands.

"Big improvement, kids," Red praised, securing them back into their conveyance.

Mainly satisfied with having the boy and the girl identified to them, the agents went back to their workouts.

Hellboy took over pushing the stroller as they headed home.

"I wouldn't have thought that bunch of guys would show any interest in babies," Liz said.

"Got an idea why?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"Obvious," she answered, "The novelty should go on for awhile, plus we have means of mobility to take them wherever we want around the Bureau."

Red grinned, "I figured on three wheels and one cat making a difference."


	5. Chapter 5 Hazard of the Job

On return from his latest mission, Hellboy's first stop was a check in to the Bureau's medical wing, which he hadn't resisted this time. Even though his flesh wounds would heal fast on their own, he wanted to be cleared of whatever he'd been exposed to on this job, that could harm his family.

"You want that gash closed properly," a medic told him, "unless you want a small crater over your eye forever."

Liz' initial sight of him was through a wide window as she approached the emergency treatment area. Leaning against the backrest of a diagnostic table, he waved to her with a welcoming grin. She smiled back, then a frown formed as she determined that a wound above his eye was large enough to see from her distance. She hurried inside to take a close up look.

"Red, what-" she was stopped short by his expectant expression, accompanied by a slight tilt of his head. His way of doing that always warmed and drew her, and she leaned in to press her lips to his. He held her for a longer kiss, with his hand at the back of her head. As she drew back a little, he was still playing with her hair.

"Now, what's this?" she asked, peering more closely at his wound, "It's open to the bone."

"Not for long," he dismissed. "I'm waiting to get sewn up."

"And your side!" she exclaimed, inspecting an arched row of bloody punctures over his ribs. "These are front and back!"

"I took a bite, but I'm not contagious, or going werewolf." Red's final tone of satisfaction told her that he had nothing else to be concerned with.

"These are from jaws wide enough to go halfway around you," she insisted.

"Mechanical jaws, just metal," he joked.

The look she gave him was less than lighthearted.

"The kids?" he asked, trying to brighten her mood.

"Guess who's sitting right now?"

Red could lift only one side of his brow at her question, as the right one was slashed across.

Liz edged up to the bed space at his side, and into the curve of his arm. "I just want you well, and home!"

"Soon, Babe. Soon."

When she lifted her head from his chest, she tried her best to smile.

"I really need to go and relieve Abe. I think he's a little out of his depth with the kids," she said.

"Uncle Abe, huh?" he mused. "That, I've got to see."

"He'd call me if he was in trouble, but I don't want to wear him out, and he wants to check on you." Liz kissed him and hopped off his bed, seeing the medics arriving with trays of instruments. As she was leaving, she turned, hearing her giant red demon mate call out his plaintive, comical plea. "Hold my hand?"

* * *

Coming home, Liz found Abe Sapien playing on the floor with her twin children, who reached their arms up to her immediately. Her daughter Gentan, raised herself from her all-fours position to stand up. She took two unsteady steps, then dropped back down to her seat. Liz leaned down to pick up her large six months old daughter.

"Liz!" Abe cautioned, "don't strain your back."

"Thanks for babysitting, Abe," Liz smiled, "I should be asking how the kids treated _you_." She looked down, feeling son Trevor's hands snugging around her leg, using her to climb up to a standing position.

"They are showing much less inclination to bite, but I did need to pay attention," Abe reported, "and Trevor's aim with his toys is becoming unerring. How is Red?"

"He hasn't lost his sense of humour," she said. "I'd like him to stay home a couple of days."

Abe waved his goodbyes to the children, who returned a semblance of the gesture, and he went out.

* * *

Silently entering the wing to Red's room, he heard his friend draw in a hiss as he endured the piercing for the final stitch above his eye. The medic began to apply a covering bandage.

"Uncle Blue!" Red hailed, seeing Abe approaching.

"Indeed," Abe replied good humour, "and I have the bruises to show for the honour. Will you be released today?" The merman looked to the medic attending Red. He shrugged.

Abe watched closely as Red turned on request to lie on his right side, exposing the bite crescents on the left of his torso.

"Red!" Abe exclaimed, "what creature did that?"

"Do you believe it was a remote-controlled robot?" answered Red. "I busted it up enough to bring back its head. The steel teeth are hollow."

"And why is that?" Abe asked himself. "Red, there is something I must check."

* * *

Entering the lab, the merman spotted the pathologist bent over his light microscope, adjusting lenses.

"Dr. Patterson," the merman called out, "I-"

"Good that you're here, Abe," the doctor interrupted, "I've been studying samples from the steel jaws Hellboy brought back. Take a look." He moved aside from the microscope.

Peering at several slides, Abe said, "It's what I feared. Are these bacterial organisms familiar to you, Doctor?"

"Not at the moment. Every hollow tooth in the jaw is a delivery system, able to inject pathogens, or whatever is intended, into its target."

Abe went to the next bench to examine the head, measured at twenty-eight inches in diameter with wide jaws bearing two rows of wedge-shaped, two-inch long teeth. He placed his webbed hand on the skull, and grew pensive as he gathered information. The merman looked up.

"Doctor, the crafters of this object planned to capture Red to observe the progress of his infection, which was synthesized for him and is bound solely to his system. Minutes ago, I saw him seeming to suffer no ill effects beyond his evident wounds," he informed.

"They made Red an experiment?" questioned the doctor. He opened his line to the medical wing and ordered, "Get Hellboy on a broad spectrum antibiotic drip, and add his special brew, right now!" He looked at Abe. "I'll blast them with everything I've got."

* * *

Red grumbled at the need for his extended stay. He felt fine, but accepted. The largest available set of scrubs was found for him to wear. He ripped a line of stitches out of the pants, making an opening for his tail.

When the medic arrived to draw blood for yet more tests, Hellboy obligingly extended his arm.

"It's a good thing for me that you're friendly," commented the tech, "even though you're so pissed off."

"I'm guessing you have no idea how long this is going on?" the demon wanted to know.

"Not me. The doc will be around to give you the results."

Liz shortly arrived with her own questions.

"What do they tell you?" she asked.

"I was shot up with alien bacteria. All I wanted to know, is that I'm not infectious. And I'm not. I miss you and-"

"I brought someone to see you," she quickly cut in, and walked over to tap the big window. She turned to see Hellboy break out in a warm grin when he saw his little red children lifted up to the glass by Abe and a staff nurse. He grabbed his IV pole and in a few long strides, was up close. Trevor and Gentan wriggled and bounced, with hands reaching out to their father. Abe had to readjust his hold on the little boy, and took a sock in the head from an excitedly waving fist.

"Some day, Hellboy," remarked the nurse, "He may be able to hit as hard as you."

"And my daughter is no sugar and spice, either," Red laughed, pressing his hand to the glass where Gentan was pointing at him. The baby then began to pound at the window with her open hands, until the nurse hastily backed her away.

"Boom! Like a polar bear!" Red grinned proudly at his daughter.

"You're encouraging her," Liz chided.

"That window actually rattled," the nurse whispered to Abe.

"These two _are_ quite vigorous," the merman answered.

"I expect that we'll see them running around the corridors next month."

"Not so soon, I hope," Liz put in, chuckling as she watched her husband showing the twins how to blow kisses. Trevor was making the effort to imitate, while Gentan took hold of the nurse's hair, and began to pull steadily.

"Time to go!" Liz exclaimed, giving Red a hasty kiss, and rushing out to the rescue.

"Later, Doubletake!" Red watched his wife urging Gentan to let go, while Abe settled Trevor into the stroller. That done, the merman added his assistance to the disentangling.

"I'm sorry," Liz said to the nurse, reaching to the floor to retrieve her hair barrette.

"No harm," she answered, "and how often do I get to meet such babies? If you should need me again, I'll just bring a helmet," she laughed.

* * *

Released at noon the next day, Hellboy came home in his scrubs and boots, with the rest of his clothes slung over his shoulder.

"You should take it easy with the kids," Liz suggested. "They could rip your stitches."

"Whatever you can see, is healed," he assured.

"And am I going to see it?"

"What are they doing?" he asked, listening to the quiet.

"Napping."

"I'm thinking we can celebrate," Red whispered, coming closer until their bodies touched.

She gave him a roguish smile as his arm slid around her waist.

"_You_ won't hurt me...will you?" His voice rumbled low by her ear.

* * *

For the rest of the kids' waking hours, and between meals, their parents invented activities to develop their coordination and expend their energies. Red taught them to stand on his feet and hug his legs. They were surprisingly good at the new game after a little practice. They both loved the mobility when Dad walked, and along with some gurgling laughter, it went pretty mellow.

"Not many limits when Dad is super strong," Liz whispered to Trevor, already dozing in his bath. With Gentan in her crib, Red returned to help put her brother to bed.

In this room and in his bed, was everything Hellboy had ever wanted. He had it all to come home to. Right now, he was lying thinking how he had the best wife, kids he was crazy about, the best place to sleep, and even his bed covers were the most comfortable on his bare skin. But he was feeling a little too warm, really too warm.

Hellboy looked over at Liz' side of their bed. She was pretty sound asleep. Good. He was mumbling his thoughts aloud, questioning and answering himself. He put aside his covers and eased out his legs, his muscles aching. Sitting on the edge, he picked up his scrub pants that Liz asked him to keep by the bed in case he needed to go and tend to their children in the middle of the night. He wasn't happy with the hurting struggle of standing to pull them up. Tail out.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" he thought irritably. He'd spent his day and night in the medical wing for treatment, observation, and blood testing to the yang, and got the all clear. He wanted something – thirsty, hungry – he couldn't decide. He gave up the thought and made the walk as far as his big lounger, and dropped into it, so heavily that it startled him. The chair made a creak of protest, and he winced. Leaning forward with his head in both hands, he felt the shivers begin through his upper body. He barely heard Liz call to him in a loud whisper as some light was turned on.

His wife hurried into her dressing gown and was kneeling in front of him within seconds. She had been concerned enough with the injuries she'd seen, but now as she reached up to stroke his shoulders, he was fevered and damp with a sheen of sweat. He lowered his hands to look at her as her fingers quested over his hot face, lightly touching the large white tape bandage over the orbit of his right eye.

She grasped his upper arms. "You weren't sick when we went to bed!"

Liz was alarmed to see Red taking shallow, rapid breaths.

"It must be the bite," she guessed, her fingers searching at the new scars on his side.

"A little crush," he answered, in a shivering ghost of his voice.

"I'm calling for help." Liz jumped up and went to the bed, returning quickly with a blanket to wrap over his shoulders. She tucked her head down briefly to his cheek as she hugged the blanket closer around him. She made the call and unlocked the door, wet a cold cloth and rushed back to him. Pulling him to lean back in the chair, she stood behind him and pressed the cloth to his face and neck. He reached, trembling, to take her hand and laid the side of his face in her palm. She could feel the waning of the strength that had never failed her. He couldn't seem to speak that he wanted her touch. She read something too disturbing into it as he closed his eyes.

A lucid spark let him rasp, "Liz...my kids..."

Her hands caressing her husband's face, she leaned down to his ear to whisper, with tears beginning, "Red...don't leave me."

When the medics arrived, Red half-consciously roused himself enough not to let them take all the strain of lifting his 350 pounds onto the wheeled bed. An oxygen mask was pushed onto his face.

"He's getting a mild sedative," explained one, injecting Red. "If he goes delirious, he could really hurt somebody – or himself."

They covered him and strapped him in, then made off to the wing with all speed. Liz watched anxiously as he was taken away. She desperately wanted to follow, but couldn't leave the kids. She called for Abe. He could stay here with them, she thought, but he would also want to go to the wing for Red.

Dear Abe. He arrived on the run and saw her condition - frantic, but under shaky control, and he asked for a fast account of the emergency.

"Get dressed, Liz. We'll all go."

Abe found the unusual stroller and brought it near, then lifted the sleeping twins out of their cribs. Taking a few seconds to realize that it was not a parent handling them, the twins became restless. Abe jostled them affectionately, and loaded them into their stroller.

Beyond that, he was uncertain what to do when they began to wake and whimper.

Liz dressed hurriedly and rushed out of the bathroom. She gave her little smile to Abe, seeing what he had done, even to tucking blankets around them.

"Thanks, Abe," she said, as they headed out, "They just get a little unsettled when their routine is broken – not that it matters right now..."

* * *

Standing outside the same window, looking in at Hellboy, Liz turned to Abe.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," she said, worried. "He was told he was free of the alien bacteria."

"That's just it, Liz – alien," Abe answered. "This infection is confined to Red's body, like a poison. The doctor believes it was meant to k-," the merman stopped himself abruptly.

"Go on, Abe," Liz relented, trying to look brave. "Something or other has been trying to kill him for most of his life on this job."

"Meant to target our strongest agent," Abe finished, "and Red felt no effect until this delayed reaction. Dr. Patterson couldn't be certain that our conventional medicine would destroy the infection. He thinks, as he said, that the bacteria were programmed for a hard strike at 'round two'."

"I'm going in," said Liz. Glancing down at her sleeping children, she entered the wing.

Behind the partial curtain, she met Dr. Patterson, setting vials of blood into a rack.

"He's asleep part of the time, and fighting the infection," he told her. "I can't say that anything we have to offer will have the desired effect. But I'm banking on something when I analyze his blood this time, and I'll see you here right after."

Liz went to the bed and lay down, just fitting beside him.

"It's been a great couple of days, except for this," she said, "and I know you'll fight, fight to stay with us. I want to hear you call me 'Babe'. I'm fine with that."

Red sighed deeply then. Waiting for the doc was more to endure. She looked over to the window. Abe wasn't there – probably taking the kids for a walk. She laid her head on her husband's shoulder.

But it was Abe who returned, stroller and all, very quietly to Hellboy's room. He approached Liz, seeming to hold in excitement.

Whispering, he said, "I've seen Dr. Patterson, who sent me to tell you the initial results. Red's hybrid immune system is breaking down the bacteria's cellular integrity as we speak! They were powerful and resistant to all antibiotics, but must never have tried to invade a chemistry like his. The infection will be very short-lived."

Waiting out the complete death of the infection, Liz stayed by Red. Abe recruited the nurse to assist him with the care of the children for the duration.

Within an hour of Abe's news, Hellboy opened his eyes to Liz, who was feeling his face to satisfy herself that he was no warmer than normal.

"You did it!" she smiled.

"I heard you," he told her, stroking her hair. "I knew you were here."

"You had nightmares," Liz ventured.

"Yeah... my demon blood took over, like nothing else could heal me. And I know it's true."

"Anything else?" Liz asked.

"Not a nightmare - I have a lot to live for, and I'll fight anything that tries to take me away from that."

He caught the gaze of Abe, standing quietly by the stroller. Getting off the bed, Hellboy removed the tubes and lines attached to him, and went with Liz to crouch down by their children, for a long look at their sleeping faces. They stood up and Red reached for the handlebar.

"No, Red," the merman whispered, "The good doctor will require a final blood screen, and you're welcome to watch him complete it in the lab."

With a resigned sigh, he turned to Liz. "Wait for me at home, Babe?"


	6. Chapter 6 I Shot the Chevvy

Liz was glad, most of the time, that Red found ways of teaching and entertaining their nine month old twins, who had by now, taken to walking and climbing with a confidence that left her both amazed and alarmed.

She returned home from a Bureau training lecture. Nobody was in sight. She heard strange knocking noises and muffled voices, and in her bedroom, found her family somewhat crammed into the vintage cab of their pickup truck bed. Crawling over the mattress to the narrow rear window, Liz silently spied to see Red seated behind the steering wheel with Trevor on his lap. Her little boy was gleefully spinning the disengaged wheel as fast as he could. Through the closed window, she could hear them growling the noises of 'pretend' driving. And Gentan – she was yanking on the old stick shift as Red was showing her how to find the gears. After five minutes of watching Trevor being entranced by his reflection in the rear-view mirror, and Gentan taking her turn at the wheel, Liz approached the driver's door and tapped the window, startling her husband. There was no room to reach down for the crank handle, so he opened the door and Gentan energetically pushed off her father's lap to go to Liz. Catching her daughter, Liz saw Red lean back, gritting his teeth. Liz quickly set Gentan down, and holding her by the hand, leaned into the truck.

"What's the matter?" she asked him.

"Got kicked.." Red managed to gasp, then his head dropped forward and he began to catch his breath.

"Sorry," was all Liz could think to say.

"I'll just sit here a minute," he told his wife, and reached down for Trevor, who was trying to crawl under the bench seat.

"I'm surprised you can fit in this cab," Liz said, seeing that his knees were tight against the wall at each side of the steering wheel.

"My boot is jammed under the clutch pedal, and my tail is killing me," he replied, "but they're too young to drive alone."

He smiled at Liz' amused expression when he protected himself from more injury as Trevor crawled across his lap. The little boy hooked both hands around his father's left wrist. Red extended his arm out the door to lower his son to his feet on the floor.

Standing by Liz, Trevor looked up at Red, and wrinkling his nose, hollered, "Boom!"

"Oh," mused Liz, "his first word."

As Red's left boot touched the floor and he struggled to free the rest of his bulk from the tight dimensions of the cab, Liz looked over the entire truck with a very critical eye.

"You know the kids are going to make a kind of playhouse out of it," she told her husband, "and I'm not liking the possibilities."

"Okay, like what?" he asked.

"They could lock themselves inside", she pointed out. "Do you have a key?"

"No," admitted Red. "It's a truck that didn't run. I took out the engine, gas tank and the oil and fluid reservoirs before I brought it here."

"And if the windows were left rolled down, they'd climb out, and it's a long drop to the floor," she continued. "This was okay when it was just us, lover, but isn't it time for a change?"

Red nodded a little sadly, contemplating the loss of his longtime personalized bed, but Liz was right.

"I'll lock the doors, and maybe the kids will forget about playing there," he said, "and you can go to pick out something – normal. Make it a king-size!"

"I can go out about noon tomorrow," she said with relief.

* * *

It took some effort to distract Trevor and Gentan from their new interest, but it had to be done. They were bathed early and dressed in their sleepers, then Red brought back Raptor, the easygoing cat chosen to be handled by his kids. He set the big Maine Coon down on the bed. Liz could see Red going a little sentimental about the final hours of his truck. Raptor was as appealing as he could be, his mischievous round eyes instantly enticing the children to climb on to play with him. They'd come a long way in understanding that the loving cat gave back pleasing noises, face rubs, kisses and soft touches with his paws when they stroked him the way Red had taught them. Liz smiled as she watched her husband and children on the bed with the cat, remembering the day that Trevor had gently patted her face in the same way. Red tossed a light plastic ball to Raptor, who batted it across the bed. This was a cause for more delight as the kids learned to roll the ball back to their playmate, and watch the toy bounce back in all directions. It was an effective diversion until it was near their bedtime. Gentan curled up and dozed off, and pretty soon, her brother followed.

Red stood up. "They're out for the night," he said.

"And now, they go to their cribs," Liz reminded, "The cat can stay."

"It's the last truck night," Red tried to persuade, "what's wrong with them sleeping with us?"

"Because they can't get used to sleeping in our bed."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Think about it?" Liz prompted.

It didn't take long for the answer to strike him. Liz could see it dawn plainly on his face.

"Oh, yeah," he decided, reaching to pick up his sleeping son.

* * *

Liz joined Red in the farewell to the truck, as they sat up in bed against the rear window, enjoying a beer. Raptor lounged at full length by their legs, purring for all he was worth.

"I'll get it taken apart and gone by the time you get back with the new setup," he promised.

"Um, why don't you keep a little piece of it?" Liz suggested.

"Nah," he replied, "I'll just kick all the whitewalls one last time." He turned to Liz and toasted her with his beer can, then brought her closer in the embrace of his left arm.

"There's a lot of good memories in this bed," he declared, taking a sip, "no, great memories!"

Liz remained listening, looking agreeable as he went on, "We made the kids, right here, and I didn't know we could."

"Nothing else is going to change," she soothed. "Maybe you'll decide to give this mattress to the cats' room?"

Thoughtfully, he answered, "Good idea. It'll be comfy for the gang of them to sleep on."

"My plan," she began, "is to borrow the garbage truck and a driver. We'll just bring the new bed right back here, cash and carry."

"And on the flip side, to drive this baby to the scrapyard," sighed Hellboy.

"Red," she pressed, gazing at him deeply, "you aren't really this sad about it? Will you promise to help me break in the new bed after I've dressed it up?"

"Sad?" he deadpanned for just two seconds, then cheered,"I'm psyched!"

With a kiss, they began the moves to give their old bed a fitting sendoff. Sensing the change in the energy of his people, Raptor merely looked up and swivelled his ears.

Red reached back to ruffle the cat's head, saying, "You can hang here, friend, but don't judge."

* * *

The next morning, the twins had been awake, fed and dressed for an hour when they began to look for more stimulation. It had been Hellboy's brainstorm to give them sheets of big bubble wrap, telling Liz that she would always know what their hands were doing, plus the popping noises they squeezed out made them laugh like crazy.

Red sneaked away to the bathroom to grind down the stumps of his horns. This was faster and safer to do without the kids watching and making grabs at the power cord.

When she heard a suspicious silence, Liz called out, "Red, are the kids with you?" The twins had been sitting on the floor ten feet away from her as she busied herself in the kitchen, and now, gone in a flash. She hurried through the rooms, calling their names. Seeing the double doors of her bedroom ajar, she made a mental note that a lock was needed, now more than ever. Going inside, Liz gasped and ran to the bed. Baby ambition was making new progress. Gentan was standing unsteadily on the roof of the cab, while Trevor had climbed as high as the hood.

"Red! Come here! Right away!" Liz called to him, as she scrambled over the mattress to get close to her daughter. Liz stood up and was holding her arms high when she saw her husband rush by her.

"Get Trevor!" she managed to cry out, just as Gentan made her dive. Bowled over by the weight, Liz crashed to her back on the mattress with her arms around her daughter. Immediately, Gentan wailed a piercing scream. With Trevor under his arm, Red looked anxiously at his girls over the side rail. Liz cuddled and kissed Gentan.

"We knocked heads," Liz explained, lifting Gentan's hair to look for a bruise.

"Stay there," Red told her. He gave her shoulder a light squeeze. "I'll get the ice."

Trevor scrambled higher to grab his father around the neck. "Boom!" he chirped, as Red carried him away from the bedroom. Liz heard Dad's retreating answer. "Yeah, fall down, go boom. Works every time."

In the kitchen, Red wrapped ice in two washcloths, then made a signal to Trevor. The little boy placed his shoes on his father's left boot and hugged his leg tight. Trevor giggled all the way on his ride back to the bedroom.

"Uh-oh, "said Hellboy, handing the ice to Liz, "a couple of blue eggs happening..."

Gentan and Liz had matching forehead bumps.

"She's much happier now," Liz answered, lightly applying the cold compress. Red's hand was holding the other ice package to his wife's bruise.

"You don't really need to go bed shopping today," he said with concern.

"Oh, yes I do," she countered. "It's all arranged with Transport, and I'm heading out in half an hour. She lifted Gentan's chin for a close look at her eyes and forehead. "We're okay."

* * *

Hellboy enlisted Abe's help after Liz' departure.

"I need you to keep the kids away from the demolition," he told his arriving friend. With an explanation of why Red's original bed had to go, Abe noted that he was the object of the twins' persistent stare and said, "Certainly. Show me what to do."

Instructed to keep the kids occupied with lunch in the playroom, Abe obligingly seated himself on the floor with the children, wondering if he could possibly be entertaining to these particular little ones for very long.

"Just for a little while, Blue. There's some things I don't want them to watch me do."

And shortly, Abe heard from the nearby room, the groan of twisting metal, and reverberating smashes. He could visualize Hellboy's stone fist pulverizing the truck into junk. Recognizing his grunts of effort made his children perk up with curiosity.

"Red!" the merman called out when the crashes finally stopped, "The children want to be with you!"

"It's cool," Red shouted back, "Come on in!"

Entering Red's bedroom, Abe first remarked, "It's much improved with walls and doors," then, "Oh!" as he saw Red's handiwork.

The old blue truck had been pounded into a compact rough cube of blue metal, and the cab separated from the rest of the body. The truck bed itself had been forcibly bent, folded to half its original size. Inside it were the four tires on rims. The bare frame lay on the floor.

"And now?" Abe asked.

"Keep the kids in the corner with you, until I get rid of the sharp stuff on the floor."

After a thorough turn with a broom, Red picked up both kids.

"I want you to be good for Uncle Abe while I do some moving, right?"

They clung to him and protested as he set them down and patted their heads.

"I need to make three trips to the freight elevator, and dump this at Transport," he told Abe, then leaned closer to whisper, "They'll cry when I leave. Don't worry about it."

Abe nodded, feeling a little panic rise. No paranormal monster had ever made him feel as unsure of himself as small children did.

Red made his first walk out with a wide armload of caved-in cab while Abe held back the kids until the door swung home, and true to prediction, they hurried to the door and parked there on the floor, screaming abandonment. Abe was distressed, but after judging it was time for Red's return, he lifted them into his arms, where they struggled unhappily. When the door opened, Abe held them while their father gathered another burden.

"Red, they don't like me," he despaired.

"You're doing great," Red praised. "They'll forget all about this, and you'll be the favourite uncle again. Hang in there."

Abe did hang in until the removals were completed, and all needed to collapse on the couch. The kids laid themselves across their father's lap as he rubbed their backs reassuringly.

"They were so distraught," Abe reported. "It was exhausting."

"I owe you," Red smiled, "Thanks."

"I believe a cold drink is in order," suggested Abe, going to the kitchen. He returned with two cans of beer.

"It's gotta be rough when _you_ want a beer," Red laughed. "I expect to see my girl come through the door any time now, with the new furniture."

And when Liz did arrive, she came directing two maintenance men carrying an enormous bed through to the bedroom. The kids stirred at the noises of new people, but didn't move from Red's lap.

When the help had gone, she returned to the couch to greet Abe.

"What a good job of clearing out, Red," she smiled, "Now, all the bed needs are the sheets, the pillows, everything I bought."

"Shall we help you?" offered Abe.

"No, I want to do it myself," she said, patting her friend's shoulder. "Sit, relax."

And off she went to see to her task.

"Dinner's coming about now. Stick around?" Red invited.

"I will," Abe agreed, looking pleased. Then he went silent, thoughtfully regarding his friend with his children asleep on his legs, and hearing his wife bustling about her decorating.

"Red," he began, with a kindly wonder in his voice, "at this moment, I have never known any man to be as rich as you."


	7. Chapter 7 Daddy's Girl

Two weeks into their new cohabitation, Liz had given Hellboy a short period of time to consider how to create more space in their quarters. Very short. Then the bargaining began in earnest.

"I really don't want to fight about any of this, H.B. Cats are fine, but only a dozen," Liz suggested.

"Fifteen cats and kittens, tops," he countered.

"And those that aren't, get neutered and spayed," Liz insisted. "Then the television sets...do you really need eighteen? Some of them are black and white, and others are from the '80's!"

"I just don't get rid of stuff that still works!" Red appealed.

"How about keeping five of the best?" she suggested. "You can still stack them or spread them out."

"An even six," he said, "Promise."

"I need someplace for my clothes," she continued, "not that many, right now."

"I know I can get some lockers, and they can go over there," he said brightly, pointing towards their pickup truck bed.

"Free-standing gym lockers?" Liz questioned, leaving no doubt that his idea wouldn't fly. "How about real furniture? A proper wardrobe. Better still, one each."

There were existing cubbyholes and shelving that would keep his records, compact discs, obsolete eight-tracks and other small stuff from lying around in randomly scattered piles. That much was easy.

Liz figured she'd ease her lover into some of the future important changes to his longtime bachelor living arrangement. His universal gym unit was in an unfortunate spot for tripping over in the semi-dark. She was certain that he could simply shove the entire setup out of the way. There were no inner walls. Currently, their sleeping area was somewhat partitioned off from the rest of the wide open room by so many of Red's television sets stacked to a general height of five feet, some facing in and some facing out.

* * *

Since she'd had only the Bureau to call any kind of intermittent and now permanent home for much of her life, she was prepared to request no more of Red than the most basic comforts. With little attachment to her former room containing her spare belongings, she didn't have long to wait before he'd made his request to have her move in with him. She smiled, recalling his visit to her room and his awkwardly hopeful, obviously rehearsed speech.

"Uh – Liz? I - I don't like seeing you all alone, because - that's the way you look to me, living here." He swept his hand to indicate her small, spartan quarters. Red took a breath, leaned closer, and looked at her with his heart in his eyes. "Whenever you leave my place, something feels - too empty. I need you all the time, Liz, and if you could live with me.."

And before he could finish, she had grabbed him for the kiss she couldn't hold back.

Then, during the month after learning of her twin pregnancy, Red went into high gear for whatever was needed to accommodate his expected family. A place for the babies and all their stuff. More walking around room. A kitchen area equipped with more than just a fridge. The couch and armchairs pushed into a space of their own. An arranged outside room where the cats would live temporarily, for when the babies came. Liz was satisfied with his efforts so far, but after all, he'd been letting his place go for a lot of years.

On one afternoon they had spent watching movies, relaxing in their odd bed, she pointed out how much she liked the high, wide moveable office partition he'd taken from storage and placed a few feet past the end of the tailgate.

"Just until I get real walls planned out," he said.

"I'll keep it anyway," Liz decided, "as a place to pin up our babies' photos."

* * *

And now that the twins were twelve months old, and had grown to the human size of age four years, they were displaying some pretty tight physical coordination. Every second day, they were taken for their own gym session, to wear off some of their crazy excess energy. An hour before lunch was the best time to start.

"Hey!" Red smiled as the kids scrambled to him, "Go bring me your kicks."

"Between you, and Abe reading them 'Moby Dick'," observed Liz, "they should learn at least two sides of the language."

Red smirked at his wife as the twins climbed onto his lap with their gym shoes. Together, the parents tied up two sets of laces, then set out on a stroll to the gym with their kids skipping ahead.

Watching them with a puzzled frown, he said to his wife, "Do you see something a little weird with them today?"

"Nooo..." she replied, then, "Oh, except that they picked out their own clothes and dressed themselves, so the colours and pattern mixes look odd. Shirts and pants may be on backwards and inside-out, but I didn't interfere with their sense of accomplishment."

"Smart," he agreed.

Nobody ever seemed to use the available rectangular trampoline, so Hellboy had scrubbed the mat and made sure that all the cushioning pads were in place over the springs. The manager had insisted that Red and Liz submit a waiver of responsibility, and they were welcome to it. Now, it was the kids' favourite play apparatus. Red lifted them up onto the mat.

"Don't crash into each other," Liz reminded them, "There's lots of room."

"Grash," Gentan repeated, as well as she could pronounce.

Surprisingly inclined towards teamwork, the twins enjoyed holding hands and rebounding in unison, while Red and Liz spotted from the floor. The kids had also discovered that alternate bouncing would send one, and then the other, upward several feet into the air.

"You got it!" Hellboy approved, admiring their accuracy of sticking the landings with knees softened into the safe bend.

"Got it!" returned Trevor, beaming at his father.

About fifteen minutes of rebounding and tumbling satisfied the twins, and after, they rolled around on the surface, consumed with giggles. When Red set them back on the floor and they had taken drinks of water, they followed their parents for a cool-down walk around the running track. By the time the little ones had completed all they were content to do, it was time to eat. Trevor and Gentan were only too glad to have Dad carry them.

"Let's pass by the library," Liz suggested. "Abe has some picture books for them."

"I've been reading our picture books all my life," answered her husband, "and enough of the creatures are pretty occult ugly, let alone they're seeing _me_ every day."

"Now, who are you calling ugly?" she chided, "Certainly not the father of my children! And as for the books, I'll bet our friend has chosen well," Liz assured.

As the family arrived, Red nudged open one of the tall golden doors with his shoulder, to find Abe approaching to meet them, books in hand.

"Nearly asleep, are we?" whispered the merman, peering at two small heads resting on their father's chest.

Hellboy walked in, heading for a big armchair where he carefully set down his dozing children. He turned to Abe, who had followed.

"Let me look those over, Blue," the demon said, extending his hand for the books. Standing, he read the titles and flipped through the pages, with Liz looking on.

"You know how I trust you, Brother," he said with earnest certainty to Abe, "but my kids don't need to see, or know about even these 'soft' paranormals." Red handed back the books. "Maybe never."

"Surely, Red, I respect your position," Abe answered, "and here, I will place all such subject matter well out of their reach."

"I guess this does run too deep, Abe," Liz considered, looking up at Red. "I should have passed it by you, first."

"No harm," conceded Red, leaving behind his authoritarian stance.

* * *

On the walk home, Gentan awakened and stretched her hand out to Liz.

"Stay with me, G.B.," he murmured, "Fifty pounds is a little hard on your mother."

Approached in the corridor by a pair of passing female agents, the parents stopped for a moment at their request to see the unique children.

"Doesn't your daughter wear any girl outfits?" one asked.

"Not practical, Andrea," Liz answered.

The woman tellingly glanced up at Hellboy, who stood patiently, without expression.

She then proceeded to make senseless prattle to Gentan, ending with, "and you're so pretty, like your mother – oh, yes, you are! What lovely thick eyelashes and black hair! And when you grow up, your handsome prince will..."

"We don't raise them with baby talk," Liz cut in abruptly.

"Oh, Liz," ventured the agent, overly solicitous, "are you in a bad mood?"

"And no fairy tales, either," Liz continued. "They're morally backward, frightening, raise ridiculous expectations, and frankly, are not worth knowing."

"I see," answered the chastened agent. "Well, good afternoon..."

Hellboy turned with a little chuckle, to continue their walk.

"You really gave it to her, Babe."

"I get unsolicited advice all the time. It comes with the territory. I just don't suffer the silliness quietly anymore. That's why my favourite friends are the nurses." Then with particular annoyance, Liz went on, "And agent Andrea Brown is the worst! Ever since she tanked on her first mission, she's been so sickly sweet to me, bugging for my influence to get you to give her another chance."

"Same with me," said her husband, "but messing with my family is lower than slime."

* * *

Three days earlier, he had finished his day's weight training in the common gym. Leaving the group of men around him, he headed for the showers. He'd noticed for awhile how furtively Andrea Brown stared his way. She hadn't made a habit of working out here until he became a regular. At least that's what the guys told him. Red had mostly left off using his home universal unit, too dangerous for his kids, who hung around everything he did. Seeing Andrea coming toward him at a fast walk, he turned away to leave the gym, but she quickened her pace to get in front of him.

"Hellboy! Hi!" she began, with a breathless smile. Then she lowered her voice, a little choked with excitement. "I'd die to go on a second mission with you! Would you, ah – could you put in a word for me to the director? I promise-"

"You're not cut out for the field," he interrupted flatly.

"I lost it," she admitted, flustered, "and I gave up my weapon, I know – but it was a whole four months ago!"

"Talk to him yourself, Brown," Red recommended, walking out to the corridor. She pursued, hurrying to keep up beside him.

"I have things to tell you," she puffed.

"What?" he asked impatiently, continuing to walk.

"Not here," she said then, sounding foolishly hopeful, "I know a place right now where we can go to be alone-" She went quiet with apprehension when he cut her off.

"I won't," he said abruptly, "and take a hint."

She hurried after him to close the distance of his brisk walk.

"Call me Andrea?" she pleaded, clasping both hands around his stone wrist. He stopped, and his eyes went cold.

"Don't do that." His growl was deep, deliberate. She let go and he strode off, leaving her with her empty plans.

* * *

"She's right about one thing," Liz mused. "_I_ grew up, and my prince came for me."

At home and on schedule, the twins dug into a big lunch with short-handled spoons, fairly quiet after their bout of exercise. And fortunately for Liz, they could climb into the bathtub on their own while she supervised, then were content to be dressed for an afternoon nap. First, they wanted their kisses. Running to her father's chair, Gentan climbed into his lap and unexpectedly raised herself to stand on his legs. Balancing there, she extended both hands to just over his head. Liz watched as an unchildlike fascination widened her little girl's eyes.

"Hot!" she pronounced clearly and calmly. Then her fingers confidently curved around the stumps of Red's horns and followed up and higher, as though her hands were filled. When she had completed her self-appointed task, she smiled broadly into her father's face and wrapped her arms affectionately around his neck. Red looked over at his wife, sharing a wondering expression, then leaned down to invite Trevor into his free arm. Liz joined him as he carried the twins to their crib beds.

* * *

Hellboy was thinking hard as he settled with his wife onto their couch. She leaned close against him in the embrace of his left arm.

"What happened there?" Red asked her, with a concerned gaze.

"It's not unusual for her, both of them, to speak only one or two words," Liz answered, "and they seem to understand us pretty well.."

"Gentan was understanding me, way too much," Red sighed.

"Let's not read anything bad into it, or behave like it's a big deal, okay?" Liz proposed.

"Yeah, it was nothing," he answered, trying to feel convinced.

"Now, let's have our own lunch," she invited, standing up to tug at his hand.

* * *

Two hours later, Hellboy closely watched his children playing the centrifugal force game they had invented. Tightly joining their right hands, they jogged in a circle, going faster and faster until at top speed, they let go. Diving to the rug, they rolled with the momentum and then lay laughing with satisfied glee.

Kneeling nearby, ready to catch if the kids flew out of control, Hellboy couldn't help but feel warmth of pride in their physical prowess.

"You're not going to hurl, are you?" he grinned, looking from one to the other.

Trevor sat up confidently, blinked at his father, then addressed his twin.

"Let's go again!"

Well, they'd heard him say that often enough. This time, they switched to left hands and repeated the spin, release, and tumble. Recovering from the successful completion of their game, Gentan scooted back to her brother.

Red saw his daughter take Trevor by the wrists, and guide his hands smoothly over the crown of her own head. Her brother reacted as he usually did when his hands glided over the coat of his favourite cat. He made his best imitation of a loud purr. Then Trevor turned his attention to a nearby toy, and pitched it hard towards the ceiling, as he loved to do. He'd learned from his parents' instruction not to throw at living things. But then, he accepted his sister sliding her fingers through his fine, black hair, and taking a grasp on the emerging hard nubs high on his forehead. And as she had done with her father, she followed a phantom pair of horns upward, ending her search several inches above the little boy's head.

Hellboy turned away, not letting the children see his pained frown.

* * *

Lying in bed beside his wife that night, Hellboy couldn't shake a feeling that things were never going to be the same. And Liz felt it in him. He didn't want to explain it just yet.

When and how it happened, was a jumble in his mind as he was startled from uneasy sleep.

"Father!" He heard the call of a female, a voice very young, very present. He turned quietly to Liz, but his wife gave no sign of waking. He listened on.

"Father, I will love you always." The voice was lilting, warm with adoration. "And when you return to our true home, we'll be together. I see and worship you, my Dark Lord."

At this, Hellboy groaned, biting off the sound of his anguish. "No..."

"I will never leave you, dear Father," she continued fondly, "Never, ever..."

Dressing with urgent haste, Hellboy hurried to the cribs of his children. Trevor lay sleeping placidly. When he leaned over his daughter, Gentan opened her eyes and looked up to give him a radiant, silent smile, then turned again to her side, falling asleep with a little sigh.

Her father sank down to his knees, his head bowed, his hands curling into tight fists. Hellboy choked back his grief at her love, her underworld love for him.


	8. Chapter 8 Home Fires

**A/N:** My OC Joaquin, was introduced in my stories titled 'Mallorca' and 'A Mallorca Sequel'. He's just too good a Spaniard to leave behind! And I've slightly tweaked Ch 8, very shortly after the original posting, just for a bit of clarification. Many thanks to all my logged-in reviewers, who give me the opportunity to acknowledge them, and thanks also to guests.

* * *

Hellboy had every reason to go straight home to his quarters and his family after two days away, but he let himself take longer than usual to lock away his weapons, making him the last agent to leave the garage for the evening. Then his uninspired steps took him to an obscure serviceway door that he hadn't opened in awhile. He took a moment to call Liz to hear her assure him that the home scene was still okay, to tell her that he was going up to the roof for a little while, via exit number TGR1-1. She'd know why.

Pressing the code pins, Red pushed open the steel door and felt the inner wall for the light switch. The intermittently mounted low-wattage bulbs were dim but sufficient. He took off his long duster to carry over his shoulder before setting foot for the climb up the iron spiral staircase. He needed to clear his head of this damned funk he'd been in. He felt like a peaceful cigar break, just him and the quarter-moon.

At the top landing, he shook out the coat and shrugged into it. Pretty much anything he wanted close to hand was somewhere in the pockets, and he was a little obsessive-compulsive that he'd forget something important if he left his coat behind. Freed up from the gripping fit of his utility belt, he felt just that much lighter without the weight of loaded pouches and the Samaritan digging into his hip.

He unlocked the upper exit, and stepped outside onto the flat roof. He bent to pick up a brick he kept by the wall and placed it between the side jamb and the self-locking door.

Red walked to the roof's edge and lowered himself to sit, letting his lower legs hang. Within a second, the anticipated cigar stub was lit, and its serene orange burst in the dark of the night was as satisfying to him as the first deep draw of aromatic smoke. The truncated moon appeared in and out of the wisps of cloud passing over its face. He heard actual crickets chirping below the tree cover beyond the paving and fence at this perimeter of the headquarters lot. The night had warmed enough to welcome small clusters of fireflies, beaming their winking soft green glow to each other.

"Find mates, little ones," was Hellboy's benediction, exhaling his final mouthful of smoke. No wonder that these mysterious creatures of elusive tiny fires had inspired tales of faeries in the superstitious past. And it jumped unbidden into his next thought, that his world had always been about that.

Scrubbing out the spent bit of cigar on the back of his stone hand, he heard a slight metallic creak behind him, with the unexpected opening of the door.

"Liz?" he called, his posture more alert, then twisted to see to his left.

"Amigo," spoke a calm voice, "Don't shoot."

"Joaquin!" Red exclaimed, pulling himself up to greet his friend. "When did you get here?"

Seeing the brick fall, Joaquin took it up as he crossed the threshold, and replaced it as before.

"The hazard of surprising you, is worth your reaction," he answered, as Red walked towards him, extending his hand to offer a welcoming grip. Then Hellboy smirked, opened his coat wide for an instant, displaying his unarmed state.

"I'm clocked out."

"And how fortunate for me," Joaquin chuckled, reaching a hand to the inside breast of his own jacket. "Shall we stay here, a short time?" the Spaniard proposed, tantalizingly withdrawing his hand to display two fine cigars before the eyes of his demon friend. "Try one of mine."

"A dream come true," grinned Red, accepting one. "You're here! What's the story?"

Joaquin looked about the pebbly surface, wondering where he might sit.

"First of all, Liz gave me the code to open the door below..." Joaquin followed Hellboy back to the edge of the roof, where the demon removed and spread out his coat. "I arrived four hours ago," he explained further, "have spent the time in much conversation with your Liz, and acquainting your children with my actual self."

"Sit there," Red invited, "Keep the tar off your pants. Now, can you fill me in on my wife's reasoning?"

Joaquin settled himself to sit by Red. "A favourite haunt?" he asked, as they lit their cigars.

"I've smoked on every roof at this headquarters," Red replied, entirely pleased with the current situation. Then he gave Joaquin a questioning gaze. "It's great to see you, but I didn't know anything about you coming – and Liz is going away with me to work, day after tomorrow."

"I know it," said Joaquin, "and I'm here to be with your niños in your absence."

"You'll live here for the week?" Red asked.

"My room is not far from the corridor of curiosities outside your home area."

"Seems like Liz arranged a lot while I was away," mused Red. "And you dropped everything to be here for us?"

Giving back a side smile around his cigar, Joaquin replied, "For a son, absolutely."

A warmth spread through Hellboy's chest, rising up his neck, heating his face.

"Since your wedding reception," Joaquin continued, "my house has hosted a grand birthday celebration and a large retirement gala. While I have more than enough requests, I am restricting the events to four in a year. I value my freedom. And so I choose to be here."

"Liz must be expecting trouble that she doesn't want Sheila to deal with," Red evaluated.

"The nurse," Joaquin replied, "I have yet to meet her. Liz has told me something of a possible local threat, but I promise, mi hijo, that I'll allow nothing to harm your family."

"That takes a big load off," answered Red, "Thanks."

"Very good. But I am told that you carry a sadness of your own, a deep concern..."

"Liz said?"

Joaquin nodded slowly.

Red drew a deep breath. "It begins with where I came from." He hesitated, "How I started my life on Earth... I push it away, but it's always...waiting."

"Whatever you wish me to understand," Joaquin promised, "goes with me to my grave."

Hellboy considered, decided. He cut down to the essentials...the horrific circumstances of the human woman who had borne him, by a demon male of the underworld. He told him how, immediately after his birth, his flesh arm had been replaced with the oversized right hand of living stone, and how it was meant to be used. Joaquin listened silently, patiently, giving no sign of disbelief or alarm. He heard about the reason for the portal that had brought him accidentally to Earth, and his adoption by Professor Bruttenholm.

"I see," Joaquin said simply, when Red had finished. "The professor must have been quite the cherished father to you. His was a very cruel loss."

In the assurance of Joaquin's acceptance, Red continued to the private anguish he'd been holding close.

"It can happen, never know when, that I hear the sire. He's got his plans for me, and won't let go."

Red and Joaquin smoked side by side with reflective concentration, eyes ahead on the stands of trees.

"We can't know all of what to expect from our kids until they give us signs, but...I've heard my own daughter's voice in my head!"

"In the same way as you hear the other?" Joaquin asked.

"Just like it. But it's what my baby said!" Red burst out in a tone of desperation. "Against everything I want for her, she knows something about the world I escaped from, who I was supposed to be. She sounds advanced to a teenager, telling me that our future together, will be..." Hellboy trailed off, letting his head drop, "not of this world." He sighed heavily. "Something is messing with us, and I need to stop it, find the way to stop it."

Joaquin held himself straight and fixed serious eyes on his embattled friend.

"I'm very enlightened, Red," he comforted, "and honestly, not surprised by all you've told me. Your history had to be unique." He clapped his hand on Hellboy's shoulder. "I've not seen a demonstration of Liz' particular power, but I wholly believe in it, as well."

Red's relief was apparent as he smiled, "If you ever see it, you'll be running."

...

_Soon after Red had departed on assignment, Liz contacted Joaquin with her request. Not only did he comply without hesitation, but had suggested an immediate amusement for the children._

"_Get your cat!" he whispered._

_Liz scooped Raptor up off the rug and took her seat before the camera, beckoning to the twins to stand at either side of her chair. The kids made sounds of happy recognition at yet another sight of Joaquin's face._

"_Hola, queridos mios," he greeted. Raptor, stretching up from Liz' lap, took his first alert, round-eyed glimpse of the bright screen, setting his thick front paws on the edge of the desk. Joaquin was heard to say a few Spanish words directed downwards and to his side, just before the great head of a gray dog appeared before the eyes of the family._

"_Trevor, Gentan, he is named 'el Le__όn'," explained Joaquin to the children, "the leader of my three dogs. See how he likes you?" _

_ Raptor's amber eyes flicked back and forth, up and down, following the twitches of the dog's face, the lolling of his long tongue as Le__όn__ panted his excitement. The children leaned in closer, cooing with fascination. _

"_And now that your cat has seen my Le__όn," laughed Joaquin,__ still hidden behind the mastiff's giant head, "I guarantee that he will try to go behind your screen to find him – and Le__όn will do__ the same." As if on cue, Le__όn__ huffed and dropped out of sight. Raptor had to be curtailed from bounding off Liz' lap, onto the desk._

"_This was a fun idea." Liz smiled her gratitude. "And I can't thank you enough for being willing to watch over our children, and being here for Red. We've hired one of our nurses as nanny." _

"_Princesa, my only experience of small children has come from the little ones of my current staff," Joaquin answered, "but I'm certain to be up to the challenge." _

"_You're wonderful, and I'll see you tomorrow afternoon," said Liz, "and I have to say good night. Kids' bedtime." _

"_Sleep well."_

_..._

The men entered Hellboy's quarters to find Liz and Sheila seated on the floor, engaging the twins in drawing on a large sheet of paper. Raptor was lying relaxed between the children, softly batting at the tip of Trevor's tail.

Before Red could begin to introduce Joaquin to Sheila, Gentan scattered her crayons and as she always did, made a beeline for her arriving father. She hugged his leg, and with an adoring smile, raised her arms. Red picked her up, and was nearly strangled by his daughter's tight hug. "Daddy! Daddy!" she celebrated.

"She just can't get enough of you," Sheila observed, getting up from the floor. "How will she be when you're both away for days and nights?"

"Don't remind me," Red gasped, gently urging his inordinately strong little girl to loosen her hold. Over her father's shoulder, Gentan took in the sight of a man seen many times via video chat.

"Leόn!" she related clearly, "Dog."

Patting her hand, Joaquin smiled, "Gentan, I have not brought my dog. Another time, I promise. Show your father what we practiced today. Can you say 'Joaquin'?"

Gentan's mouth worked around the syllables, her cheeks dimpling before she uttered, "Keen!"

"Close enough," Red chuckled, as she smiled at him in triumph.

Red then noticed how Joaquin had stepped up to his side, to better see the women. Liz knew that patient, expectant smile, the unobtrusive squaring of his shoulders, and she turned to the nurse.

"Sheila, this is our good friend, Joaquin."

Joaquin approached to take her proffered hand, held it with his thumb lightly brushing the tops of her fingers. His eyes and lips expressed his pleasure as he pronounced 'Sheila', as if it were the most enchanting name he'd ever heard. And not releasing her, he wordlessly motioned with his other hand to invite her to a seat on the couch. Allowing her the choice, he continued to hold her hand as she took her place, then joined her. Liz watched Sheila brush back one side of her hair and touch the collar of her blouse, and read her body language. The nurse was thinking that she wasn't quite at her most attractive right now. Joaquin leaned slightly inclined toward her, turned his most genteel and charming attention upon Sheila, and began a murmured conversation.

Red hadn't seen this quintessential Joaquin moment, being engrossed in his children who had tugged him over to see their artistic handiwork. Liz joined her family as Red puzzled over the sweeping crayon scrawls. He pointed to a round shape with long black streaks scribbled at each side. "What's this?" he questioned.

"Baaabe!" proclaimed Trevor, pointing an arm in his mother's direction.

Liz chuckled, "I can't help but think that one day soon, everything they've ever heard and understood will come out in full sentences."

"He calls you 'Babe'?" Red asked her, wondering how he'd failed to notice.

"They both do."

As Joaquin and Sheila approached the family, the children called out, "She! Keen!"

"Liz, Red," Sheila began, "do you need me for anything? If not, I'll be going."

"I will retire, too," Joaquin added, "after I walk you to your room."

Sheila flashed a secretive, wide-eyed little grin to Liz, which was not lost on her husband.

"See you tomorrow," said Liz.

"'Night, Joaquin...Sheila," Red smiled.

The parents turned to the evening ritual of getting the twins bathed and ready for bed, then retreated to their own sanctuary.

...

Red lay back, watching his wife creep over her side of the blankets to kneel by him.

"When did you think of him?" he asked, his voice soft with curiosity.

She reached to take his flesh hand in both of hers and raised it to her face. "You were troubled for too long," she said. She pressed his calloused knuckles to her lips. "I couldn't let it go on." In between slowly kissing each finger, she continued, "You haven't truly smiled until today. Didn't you know?"

Her eyes never left his, but she lowered her provocative lips into a devouring kiss to his palm. He returned her gaze in silent appreciation, remembering what he owed to her. But he was held in thrall – his wife was about to bestow her womanly comforts. She bent to his ear and whispered, "Turn over. Let me take out all this tension."

She hovered to hear him answer with a little throaty growl. He swept aside his pillow and lay prone, stretching out the long reach of his arms.

"Wonder what we'll have to sleep on when we go away," he mused, "I'll miss this bed."

"A king size for my king," Liz quipped, placing herself to sit on the small of his back, her bent legs snugged against his sides. She leaned forward and began pressing her fingertips into his shoulder blades, working up to soothe the muscles above.

"And you make it look good," he sighed with the pleasure of her touch, sliding his hand over the fitted sheet.

Taking his meaning, she answered, "Not too girly, either. There's already plenty of colour around here."

With the heels of her palms, she ground circles down his spine. Red flexed his shoulders as Liz massaged midway down his back.

"Your missions are recorded right here," she told him, following along each of his battle scars with trailing fingers.

"Speed bumps," he chuckled. "Aah, feels great!" He knew that her strength limited how deeply she could knead into his dense musculature. "Don't strain yourself," he cautioned, sneaking the tip of his tail up to tap the side of her head. Startled, Liz felt it continue to wind through her hair, and slide little strokes along her neck.

"That tickles!" she scolded, squirming as he stifled a laugh. She changed position to sit on the backs of his thighs, giving her hands access to all his lower back. As she worked over him, his tail unfurled mischievously in front of her face, like a swaying cobra.

"Red.." she warned.

Giving in, he dropped his wily appendage off to the side, and Liz grinned as she felt the vibrations of his relaxed, contented rumbles under her hard working fingers. Finished, she laid herself fully over his back, smoothing her hands over his shoulders and outstretched arms.

"There's just so much of you!" she whispered, nuzzling his ear.

"How about all your effort to help me get grounded again, get back my sense of humour?" he acknowledged, his voice muffled against the mattress, "I'm sorry for being a drag."

"It made me feel secure about the kids, too. This is a bonus."

"Sleep, now?" he ventured. "You must need it."

As she slid off to his side, he turned toward her. She edged into his arms, her hands clasping behind his neck . "A kiss, first," she murmured against his lips, "Maybe more?"

...

The next late morning, Red took Joaquin on a tour to identify the Bureau facilities that would be most useful and necessary during his stay.

"Has much changed about this place since my visit when the children came?" Joaquin asked.

"Not much," Red answered, "but what the kids do with it now, is the difference."

Leading Joaquin into the gymnasium, Red instructed him in the kids' use of the trampoline and running track.

"Sheila can help you spot," he informed, "She's done it before. And in there, the weight training and cardio room. Thought you'd like to maintain."

Following Red through the doors, Joaquin scanned the stations and machines. "Nicely equipped," he commented. Then with dry humour, "I assume your children will not be making use of this until next year?"

"We have our ways," smirked the father, with a nod to his friend's prescience.

Red made a brief introduction of his companion to everyone present, after which the two proceeded on.

A short stroll through the fast-food canteen led to the larger dining area. Both rooms were minimally occupied at the moment.

"Whatever you want, the kitchen is prepped to deliver," the demon said.

They made their way back to the corridor and within a hundred yards, their conversation was interrupted by the hurried tapping of footsteps behind them. Turning to the sounds, Joaquin stopped.

"Señorita agent Andrea Brown," he calmly identified the approaching woman, taking her by surprise.

Flushing angrily, she erupted at Red. "You could have trusted me! You hired this – this old guy bodyguard!" Andrea spluttered, looking full at Joaquin, whose unnerving smile she took as mocking, and fuel to her fury. "You freak bastard!" she yelled at Hellboy, "You strut around here with your freak bitch and your freak pups, but you couldn't even get me busted back to probation!" Giving Joaquin and his 'Associate' badge a contemptuous glare, she demanded, "Who the hell is this, anyway?!"

"Not your business," Hellboy dismissed tightly, about to turn away.

Then her eyes flew open, almost as wide as her mouth. "Hellboy! I didn't mean that! I'm so sorry!" she called after him as he walked off with his friend.

"Brown looked much more pleasant in her staff portrait," Joaquin remarked.

"She hasn't cracked that attitude with me until just now," Red said, "but I knew it was coming. So far, she's been trying too hard to get close to us – kept begging Liz to let her take care of our kids."

"Is there no remedy for such an unstable agent?" asked Joaquin.

"Not soon enough, not that one," Red answered. "She's a rookie who blames me that she's not assigned to my teams. She's still here because of her FBI father's clout. He wants her to handle the outside missions. She can't. Manning tied her to a desk. We hold her off and he's not allowed to fire her. We'll see."

"A bitter woman," Joaquin concluded with clarity. "Her hatred, her desire for your approval, is equally passionate."

"You hit it," Hellboy agreed. "Now, I want to check out what Abe's bringing tomorrow."

...

Having prepared all that was needed for their mission away, Liz and Hellboy dreaded the morning. Parting hugs and kisses were given before the parents were visibly suited up for departure, and the twins were left busy with Sheila in their playroom. Ready to close the vault door after them as quietly as possible, Joaquin whispered, "Buena suerte - take care of each other."

* * *

Their amphibious colleague awaited outside the assigned transport aircraft.

"It's like old times, Liz," Abe enthused, "now that we're three again."

"You know I've been sneaking off to keep in regular practice," she answered, "so bring on the new times."

With her game face assumed, Liz outraced the men to board their plane.

...

"I think we're having as much fun as usual," Sheila reported at the parents' call that evening, "getting our exercise, eating well, learning some new vocabulary."

"How about missing us?" Hellboy wanted to know.

"Both of them searched every inch of the place, yelling for Daddy and Babe, but it didn't last too long."

"Aaww," mourned Liz, "It's for the best not to let them see us, but it's not possible from here, anyway. And our friend?"

"He doesn't let us out of his sight when we're away from home."

"He knows the drill," Red approved.

"How is it going?" Sheila asked.

"It shouldn't hold us back more than a day," answered Liz, "but the industrial vacuum ventilators we need arrived late."

"Why vacuums?"

"This ground pit we're investigating is filled with poisonous fumes and thick blue fog for miles," Red informed. "We won't go in completely blind."

"I don't like the sound of that," said the nurse. "Please be careful. Don't worry about home, and call every day?"

"Somebody will, or one of us, if we can," were Red's parting words. "Sheila, thanks."

...

Being instructed in and familiar with Joaquin's way of keeping watch in the complex' inside facilities and corridors, Sheila would hold back the twins from running ahead until the surroundings were proven clear.

Following the twins' routine, and sometimes breaking it, adding to it, thoroughly filled the time for Sheila and Joaquin. She spent her nights behind the vault door in the master bed. After the children had gone to sleep, the adults would sit awhile in conversation at the table, over coffee or tea.

Not since their introduction had Joaquin gone near the couch. As he had asked to hear more about her life, she found herself stammering a bit through her account, whenever she looked up to see his manner of listening intently, elbow on the table, leaning forward with his chin resting on his fist. If she faltered, his warm brown eyes would subtly encourage her to go on.

And each time he left to return to his own room, she always heard him ensuring the secure locking of her door.

...

On the fourth morning, Sheila sighed, "I'm a little on edge. Last night's update came from a random agent. He could say only, it's believed that the special agents are alive. So cold..."

Joaquin frowned in consternation. "And since then?" he asked sombrely.

"Nothing more."

"Is there anything you'd prefer to do today, Bella?"

"I'd like to take a close look at the professor's library," she answered, trying to sound cheerful for the twins' sake. "I've heard that the entire room is so unique and beautiful."

"It's been offered for our use - and so we go to the library," acceded Joaquin. The children took the incentive to load their backpacks with favourite toys and snacks prepared for the outing.

Having cleared the interior and re-locked the tall golden doors with the foursome inside, Joaquin watched the children run to Abe Sapien's tank, calling for him, with hands and faces pressed to the plexiglass wall.

"No swimming today," Sheila told the disappointed pair. "Abe will be back, but not right now."

"St. George and the dragon," announced Joaquin quietly, guiding Sheila to the mythical sculpture with his fingers lightly at her mid back. As they appreciated the work of art, they looked up to find the archangel Michael's statue, high above, and central to the rear wall.

Taking the children by the hands, they climbed the tall staircase to the mezzanine for an inspection of the late professor's paintings and artifacts – for too short a time, as the twins found more to their interest on the ground floor. In front of the cold fireplace, they upended their backpacks until their lunch packages scattered out. The twins' rapid growth pattern appeared to be following that of their father as a child, so a supply of substantial between-meal snacks accompanied them anytime they were away from quarters.

"You know that's not the way to treat our food," chided Sheila, setting out paper plates for them and serving their pints of milk. "And when you've finished eating, we'll go home."

The adults used the respite to wander and explore more of the library, until Sheila deemed it time for her to sweep up the crumbs of the picnic.

Joaquin brought the twins to a stack of bookshelves. "Remember?" he said, "You may choose your books from here, as high as you can reach, Niños. No jumping, no climbing!"

Sheila crouched by the children, ready to place the chosen books into their backpacks, while Joaquin walked back to the doors, alone. As always, he unlocked, then listened for some ten seconds. Gripping the long brass handle of the left door, he slowly drew it open towards himself by no more than a foot.

But it was enough space for a hard blow to come from above, and as an angry high pitched scream ripped through the library, Sheila jerked up her head to see Joaquin thrust his arms out the doors to seize an unseen thing. Sheila scooped the children tightly against her. Joaquin threw himself violently backwards over the library threshold, with his fists twisted into the front collar of a woman's jacket. Andrea Brown hurtled headfirst over Joaquin, propelled by the upward force of his knee in her gut. Nothing but a breathless grunt exploded from her mouth as she crashed on her back, and a bloodied, curved knife clattered to the library stairs. Still having hold of his attacker's dishevelled jacket, Joaquin rolled swiftly to pin her down on her face.

Absorbing the tense atmosphere of danger, the violence of sound and motion, and the distress of his protective nurse, Trevor stood rigid, creasing his little brow into angry vertical furrows, and from his pursed lips, undisciplined yellow flames began to curl until they rose past his eyes to the height of his budding horns.

Holding her down under the force of an arm bar, Joaquin's free hand searched Andrea for other weapons. Now he looked across at Sheila, who was frantically stripping away Trevor's burning polo shirt while holding a fascinated Gentan away from him. As Sheila's eyes swept over Joaquin and his prisoner, she was torn between her attention to the twins and her compulsion to stop the flow of blood soaking through the right chest of Joaquin's jacket.

"Bella," he winked to Sheila. "You've done well!"

"But you...you're cut!"

"Only a muscle, no deeper," he assured, keeping his captive restrained.

Then Sheila cried, "Gentan, go over there and push on the red circle, yes! Yes!" Pointed to the wall bearing the bright emergency button, the child took Sheila's shouted direction. "Push it hard!" Gentan jumped as the alarm began to blare.

To the futilely struggling, swearing Andrea, Joaquin recited with exaggerated, satisfied inflection, "You are under arrest, my dear, for slashing this old bodyguard. You will leave a scar. You have the right to say nothing with your pretty, profane mouth. You have the right to the best lawyer your padre can afford. If you should choose to say anything, it must be that you will never again molest Hellboy's family."

Andrea shrieked out every foul epithet she knew, until all her fight ran down.

Sheila's sudden, indrawn gasp caught his attention. "What will I tell Liz and Red?"

"Say," began Joaquin thoughtfully, "that the in-house problem has been resolved." Then he turned to the agents arriving on the run to answer the disturbance. His concise explanation of the knife attack was backed up by Sheila, and by a smear of blood on one golden door.

She was still crouched, holding a twin in each arm as the agents relieved Joaquin of his captive. She had pocketed Trevor's burnt rag of a shirt. That official explanation would have to wait.

...

"I'm sorry it came to this, Joaquin," Manning apologized, following the wounded man's gurney through the corridors on the way to the infirmary.

"No, Tom," dismissed the patient, "I'm quite content. But while I am in surgery..."

"I've assigned a second nurse to help Sheila, and posted a guard at Hellboy's quarters, just as a precaution, though I believe that Brown acted alone."

Joaquin nodded his approval to the director, noting that he held a plastic evidence bag containing a blood-streaked linoleum cutting knife.

"This bears no property stamp of ours," Manning explained, "Brown must have brought this in, brand new, specially for -" he halted, realizing that no ugly conclusion need be spoken.

But Joaquin assessed with pragmatism, "A well considered choice – a weapon easily concealed, silent, unexpected, and deadly in cool, skilled hands."

"She's finally finished herself with the Bureau," the director pronounced.

Manning viewed Joaquin's exposed wound, as a medic jogging beside lifted the blood-soaked gauze compress for an instant. He was cleanly slashed from his collarbone down through his right pectoral. Additional thicknesses of gauze were pressed over while Manning shivered his face in a squeamish display.

"And Tom," Joaquin interjected, beginning to feel a touch weaker, "Though I'm not disposed to apologize to agent Brown, it is never my way to bruise a lady."

* * *

About to be wheeled to surgery, Joaquin entreated, "Wait!"

From his pillow, he beamed a slightly beseeching smile at his favourite nurse, who was standing back a little distance, holding the twins about their shoulders. She had delayed her own treatment to this point, for the burn blisters to her fingers.

"Sheila," he breathed. Again, she heard her name caressed by his drawn out whisper, saw his hand reaching to her. Telling the children to stay put, she painfully slipped her bracelet off over her scorched hand and gave it to them. They promptly sat down together on one chair, to examine the colourful beads.

Sheila approached Joaquin's side, bending close to hear him.

"Don't let me sleep," he murmured most intimately, "without the kiss of a beautiful ángel on my lips."

...

**A/N:** I needed to look up these Spanish/English translations. If I have mistaken, please tell.

Mi hijo – my son

Buena suerte – Good luck

Queridos mios – my dear ones


	9. Chapter 9 Double Income, Two Kids

**A/N: With my hint at a mission for Red and Liz in the previous chapter, I had to create one, not easy! Hope it won't deflect readers from the main theme of the series. Parents have to work, after all. Please write reviews.**

...

"Look at this lowdown place," groused Hellboy as he and his team, freshly disembarked from their B.P.R.D. transport helicopter, stood upon the hot sand of the Arizona Sonoran desert, with its unwelcoming spreads of ground scrub and cactus.

"Oh, come on, H.B.," Liz teased, "We're out in the world, and there are lots of colourful flowers, too."

"And sidewinders," he reminded, raising his binoculars to view the team's target site, just a thousand yards away from their landing - the caved in, two-storey wooden structures against a rocky hill, that once heralded the existence of a productive silver mine below it, now abandoned for a century.

"The rot of ages," Red marked, "with some modern junk out front."

Abe refreshed on the incident summary, "Local men, bringing those decrepit vehicles and large quantities of old tires to dump illegally, failed to return home and were found apparently acid-burned to death at the site, and thus the entity revealed its existence."

"Worst dumping penalty, ever."

"Let's get unpacked and make camp," Hellboy suggested, looking back at the accommodations.

Liz was just unlocking the door of one of the three large trailers towed in for housing the agents.

"It's like a foreman's construction site office," she said. "Portable generators, fuel cans, sand buggies." His wife pointed to each in turn. "The honeymoon we never had."

"I love the smell of diesel in the mornin'," returned Hellboy with sarcastic joy. He pulled down the hinged set of stairs for her and she ventured inside. Ignoring the stairs, Red took a high step off the sand onto the trailer floor. The corrugated steel outer walls mirrored the functional simplicity of the interior.

"This propane fridge is stocked with a fair variety of meals," she told Hellboy.

He grunted in response, pulling at the sweat-soaked neckline of his shirt. "Any beer?"

"Some," she said, peering further. She handed out a cold can to her husband and continued investigating. "Here's a little bathroom with a shower head," she called out, "but the rest looks all pretty hastily furnished."

"Mattresses stacked on the floor," he observed. "I've had a lot worse."

"And no TV," Liz added, "Can you stand it?"

Right then came a knock on their door. Hellboy pushed it open and invited in agent Moore.

"What do you think of these as a living arrangement?" Moore asked.

"Tight enough up top," said Red, obliged to duck to keep his head from grazing the ceiling light fixture.

"Sleeping double won't bother you," Moore continued, "but I have to bed next to Bardon."

"We all have to make sacrifices," grinned Liz.

"Go get Bardon, will ya?" Red asked him, "and Phillips, Cutler and Abe. I want a briefing in the equipment trailer."

...

That particular trailer belonged to Abe. Considering that he'd been provided with an indoor cattle watering trough to soak and sleep in, he had more free interior than the others to hold all the supplies at the opposite end.

"When our advance crew lost one of their Packbots down the hole yesterday," Hellboy informed the assembled agents, "all it returned were fogged up images of some random inanimate crap, and no cave-in up to the distance it was stopped. That much is good to know. If we can, we get back the robot." He walked to the supply stack to determine that their hazmat protection was all in place. Taking the boxes down, he handed them out. "Everybody, suit up," he directed. "We're going out."

Piling into three sand buggies, the team of seven drove up closer to the target.

"We could sure use those super suckers," Cutler broadcast to all from his voice-capable protective helmet, as the team viewed the threatening plumes of blue fog from a hundred yards away. "My eyes are stinging already."

The mouth of the mine continued to emit regular puffs of dense fog, which shrivelled and blackened the cholla cactus, and even the largest saguaro within range.

"Take it home," Red decided, annoyed by the delay of the promised ventilators.

Arriving back at camp, Phillips shut down his sand buggy and was about to join his three bunkmates in their trailer, when he signalled Red.

"We brought decks of cards," the agent said. "Not much else to do. Abe will come. Want to join us?"

"In a little while," answered Red, "Going to get on the horn."

The call home reassured the couple about their twins' welfare, thanks to caretakers Sheila and Joaquin.

...

Nursing a beer in the neighbouring trailer, Liz watched the men play cards. The four regular agents had arranged their mattresses at each end of their abode, and placed their table in the center. Extra chairs had to be contributed from all trailers.

Suddenly, the company hushed to listen to the sound of a gigantic burp which could only be coming from the mine.

"Sounds juicy," Hellboy chuckled.

"And polluting," added Abe.

"I can beat that," posited agent Moore, taking a big swallow of beer. He then inhaled deeply, and proudly ripped out a long, rude belch. The contest was on. One by one, the men performed, vying to produce the most inventive and protracted burps. Hilarious. Abe's respiratory structure didn't allow him to create such noises. Helpless with giggles, Liz covered her mouth with both hands as the company looked for her turn.

"No, not me!" she gasped, when everyone erupted into new roars of laughter as the mine then seemed to answer with the most heroic burp of all.

It became impossible to concentrate on the card game while they let the persistent booming from the pit crack them up, over and over. But their first evening had become an unexpected hoot.

...

Getting into bed under light covers, Liz said, "I think I can sleep through that now."

Red lay beside her, thinking how the constant noise of the generators had been virtually forgotten in comparison with the crass belches from the mine.

As another one began to sound, Liz felt Red about to let go with a laugh. Snuggled up against him, she appealed, "Please don't start again."

He granted her wish for a night of rest.

...

The team chafed at the waste of the second day, as the industrial ventilators failed to arrive until late afternoon. The regular agents suited up in hazmat and headed over to observe the operation and evaluate the results.

"It gauges down to two percent detection, Red," reported Cutler, "and I haven't seen a hair's worth of blue, or heard so much as a hiccup, the whole hour after it was cleared." His eyes crinkled at the memory of the first night.

...

"What's living in this damned hole?" Hellboy puzzled, frowning. He unearthed a large rock and pitched it hard and true into the darkness. All agents were taken aback as the rock summarily bounced back out, rolling at their feet. Examining the rock, Abe pronounced, "It's dripping wet! I'm going inside to see."

Accompanied by Red, Abe followed his helmet light deeper into the shaft. Sixty feet in, the agents stood at attention to hear onrushing water coming their way. A whitecap, rolling like a gigantic barrel with the roar and speed of a buzz-saw, bowled them down, and promptly froze solid.

Flung to his back, Hellboy raised his head to find himself encased from his waist down, inside a vertical, ceiling to ground wall of ice. He yelled for Abe, over and over. No answer came.

"Screw this!" he gritted, and used all the force of his stone arm to pound chunks from his prison. He heard the buggies coming in, pouring light onto his predicament.

"Abe's in there!" Red hissed, continuing to bash and crack the ice wall.

"Hit it like a laser, Babe!"

Training her fire at the ceiling edge of the ice, Liz figured she was less likely to burn Abe that way. The human agents chopped hard at the lower part with axes.

"Abe could have been carried anywhere," speculated Phillips, grunting with effort, "Maybe off to a side shaft."

He saw Red getting completely soaked by the meltwater raining down from above, and straining to push out of the ice wall, building a towering frustration. With a tremendous shove of both arms, Red broke his lower body out and stood looking balefully at the big block. Abe would be suffocating.

"All bets are off, Babe!" he instructed his wife, "Burn it down!"

The regular agents had to scram out in the buggies in the face of the pyrokinetic's more intense power.

Watching hard for Abe, Red walked with the melting disintegration of the wall, slamming it angrily. He heard a fierce gurgling beginning to ascend towards them. He stunned Liz by grabbing her, wrapping her in his coat.

"Hang on!" he rasped, almost as they were both knocked down by the force of outrushing water, and scraped along the ground and walls repeatedly as they were swept at the mercy of the flood.

As the outside team looked back into the mouth of the cave, they cleared off to the sides, hearing the gush coming their way. They stared with concern at the geyser of dirty water that burst out and threw down the big form of Hellboy, with his arms tight around his wife. Sitting up, Red looked closely at Liz and began to remove her helmet. He had lost his somewhere back there.

"Debris," warned Bardon, helping Phillips to lift a groggy Liz away to safety.

Hellboy searched for Abe as he was getting to his feet. There he was, lying in the wet sand, with Moore and Cutler kneeling by him. Liz, still a little dizzy, was up again to join Red as he went to Abe.

The merman blinked weakly. "It wasn't a total loss," he said, pointing to the side.

Cutler grinned, "Abe was hanging onto this, the Packbot. 'Fraid it looks fried."

"What high pressure -" Liz said, astonished, looking down the length and width of the outpour, now rapidly soaking into the thirsty sand surface. "And see all the stuff that washed out?"

"If I had this stuck in my gut, I'd puke, too," Hellboy smirked, approaching one piece of debris which looked like a large deflated brown and white sack. He studied it for some seconds, then bent to flip it over.

"This is a big animal hide," he identified. "It used to be sewn up to make a container."

"Like in ancient times," Liz remarked, leaning to investigate. "Sort of a cow-sized wineskin. Why hasn't this decayed into nothing over all this time?" she wondered.

"Desert tribes made such hide containers to carry water," Abe offered, now up and curious. "Early seafarers used them for cargo."

"A branding iron would have left at least a cut-out," Hellboy said. "Nothing here. No identifiers, either, on any of these blown-out steel barrels. Best guess, Abe," proposed Red. "This is a 'smart' weapon, sealed up in all these and dumped way back of this mine because the inventors lost control of it."

"The theory does bear study," deemed the scholarly amphibian. "And these barrels are 1940's vintage," Abe pronounced, "but are not degraded or rusted, either. The lids were once welded shut."

"Nazis, again?" asked Red.

"It may have ended with them, but was already in existence when civilizations used animal skin containers."

"Could this thing get any more disgusting?" Liz wondered.

"Well, it has been displaying a semblance of excretory functions," Abe said, helpfully.

"Yeah, only one left, and I don't want to be there when it happens," Red deadpanned. "Now we have to regroup, pick up this evidence and grab some rest at camp."

Everyone was glad to hear their leader say that.

...

Third day, and Hellboy wanted to get this over with. Nobody knew what kind of attack the entity had in store, or why. He just had the odd feeling that there was nothing personal about it.

Since Abe himself had been in close contact with it, he postulated that the thing had a mechanical, finite kind of intelligence, which had broken away from control of programming.

"Someone just needs to exhaust all of its catalogue of defenses?" Hellboy rationalized. "Sounds pretty open-ended."

"It seems to use elements of its surroundings to develop and deliver defenses. We haven't, for instance, seen the use of acid, which killed the original victims, for a second time," Abe pointed out. "But who gave this to humans?" he questioned. "Aliens? Magic folk? The underworld?"

"First, we stop it," Hellboy ruled. "Brainstorm later."

...

Red assigned Moore, the biggest agent, to accompany Liz on another foray to clear the mine. He took Cutler, and Abe had Phillips as backup. Ten hours after seeing them drive into the mouth of the pit, Bardon had to report no contact, after frequent signalling to their locators brought no answer.

"_How's the fit of the helmet?" Cutler asked Red._

"_Too tight," answered the demon, wearing it face-open. "Bardon only looks like his head is bigger than mine." Hellboy wrangled it off. "It's history."_

"_Speaking of – he's gotta be worried that we don't hear him."_

"_If we don't finish this today," Red replied as they walked, "we'll be stuck here longer."_

"_Good enough we hear each other, then," Cutler conceded. "Think it's in the Thing's plan?"_

"_Guess we'll find out."_

_The three teams checked in with each other often, alternating use of comms to preserve power._

"_We're golden," reported Phillips. "There's nothing in here."_

"_Oh, but there is," cut in Abe's voice. "I feel it hiding."_

"_If I'd known I'd be with you, Fish," joked Phillips, "I'd have brought extra skivvies."_

"_Can it," Hellboy ordered. "Batteries."_

_They flagged every shaft cleared with an X in team-assigned colours of spray paint, then drew an arrow to indicate the next direction taken. Seeing that Liz and Moore must be close by, Hellboy called out, "Liz, can you see my glow stick?"_

_Phillips' shout answered, "I'll see your glow stick, and raise you-"_

"_Shut UP!"_

_The teams met._

"_It's been hours," said Liz. "Now that we're all together, can't we sit and rest a little?"_

_She dropped to the rough, musty ground and tugged to adjust her body armour vest. "This must weigh fifteen pounds," she complained. "And H.B., where's your helmet?"_

"_Got it here," he answered, swinging it forward in his hand. "I borrowed it from a guy without horns."_

_Sitting for an hour couldn't be denied to the footsore, backsore agents. They had a lot to question and compare, especially with Abe._

"_This amorphous being may occupy every cubic inch of this mine," he said, "but I sense it is gathering strength, here, but away from us. Its only directive is to defend itself."_

"_How about you find it, lead us to it, and we'll-" began Phillips._

"_It will come to us, when it chooses," Abe predicted, to no one's comfort._

"_Then, do we need to keep walking?" Liz questioned._

"_We've cleared about sixty percent of wherever we can go," Hellboy told the teams. "We have to do a hundred."_

_Wearily getting up, the agents split into their doubles and carried on. It was boring and tedious slogging, but they were the B.P.R.D., and tasked to stay alert for the threat._

_Four hours later, they gathered again, ready to head out toward the entry shaft. Within sight of the outside, a high wind began to whip the agents._

"_It's coming," gasped Moore, disgusted,"now that we're dog-tired." He snapped down the visor of his helmet and drew his gun. For what? The howling wind swept in typhoons of desert sand, slamming into their bodies and bearing down to grind on them, flaying off exposed skin._

_Liz was barely standing, consumed in a vortex of sand that beat her relentlessly. Hellboy's roar of "Everybody! Out!" barely reached the ears of the beleaguered team as Red's arms seized Liz and he joined her in the flailing column._

"_Liz!" he pleaded, "Don't burn!" Red couldn't shoot, he couldn't punch this enemy. He tried not to think of his wife encased in molten glass. He pulled Liz closer, stared down into her eyes, and saw that parts of her helmet had been filed through by the rasping sand. He covered the gaps with his hand and threw them both down forcefully, breaking the punishing sheath._

"_Now, Liz!" he shouted, and as she lay on the ground beside him, she erupted with yellow flames, and drew on all her strength to project her most blazing heat into the shaft. She understood as her husband got up and raised her to her feet. Soon, they would have to run. The shaft was glowing red with grainy, liquid glass as Liz melted the sand into a smooth layer that built higher upon itself and streamed along the floor toward them. The entity was inert, terminated, but not harmless until it cooled and stilled for good. As Liz let her fire retreat back into herself, Hellboy picked her up in his arms, and ran from the hellish heat._

...

The helicopter taking them home was moving too slowly for Liz. She rebuffed her husband's attempts to calm her, didn't want to bother with caring for the abrasion damage to her face.

Coming to her an hour into the flight with a tolerant but firm approach, Red showed her a tube of medicated gel.

"I cooled this for you," he said. "It will help heal and take away the pain of the sandblast. Now, I'm gonna put it on your face."

Feeling much more cooperative, Liz sat quietly while Hellboy spread the gel across her burned cheeks, nose and chin. She began to smile a bit at his caregiving concentration as he lifted her bangs to minister to her forehead and applied a coating to the backs of her hands.

"It is cool," she agreed, when he was finished, "and the burns feel a lot better." She looked searchingly at his face. "How about yours?"

"You mean, did I get redder than you?" he chuckled.

"I see some scrapes," she answered, touching his chin. "Give me the tube."

...

The last leg of the journey was via car from the heliport. Liz again let the suspense overtake her. Knowing that Trevor had had an episode of emitting fire from his body, even though he was safe, was sitting heavily on her soul.

"Home, first," Liz unknowingly whispered to herself, eyes forward as their sedan approached the headquarters. She fidgeted on the rear bench seat with unbearable impatience, her face strained and drawn.

"Home, first," repeated her husband. "You can get on my back and I'll run all the way."

Liz pushed his hand off her thigh with irritation, not in the mood for the slightest humour. But as she threw a repentant look over at Red seated beside her, he was facing away to his black-tinted window. Sidling closer, she took hold of his stone hand, which he raised to welcome her into his arm.

"Sorry," she said in a low tone, bending her head to his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist. She didn't move until the car came to a stop within the garage, and Red hit the button to unlock his door. The couple fairly spilled from the car with a quick thanks to the driver, and lit out on the run to their quarters.

Liz saw on her headlong dash toward her door, that Sheila had exited just outside of home with the twins. Reaching them, Liz dropped to her knees and grabbed her children into her arms.

Sheila tried not to gape at the inflamed blotches on Liz' face.

"They're fine," soothed the nurse, "but maybe if you show high emotion to Trevor..." she trailed off, feeling a little foolish advising Liz on a condition she knew better than anyone. Sheila looked up uncomfortably to see Hellboy's understanding expression, before he bent to pick up his son and give Liz a hand up. His daughter, he took up into his other arm.

"You're right," Liz said to the nurse, who immediately busied herself with finger-combing back Liz' gel-caked bangs. Liz followed up her quirked smile with a hug for her friend.

"Do you mind?" Sheila asked the couple, "I'd like to go see him."

"Go on," Liz urged. "We're kind of a mess right now."

Home was a welcome sight. Disquieted by their adults' initial interactions, the twins regained their usual dispositions with the crossing of the threshold.

"I'll play with them while you clean up," Hellboy offered.

"My bath is calling," Liz explained to her children as she headed for the tub.

Red helped Trevor rummage through the refrigerator, giving him a small plate for his chosen treasure. With his son occupied, Red took a chair in position to watch over the kids. Within seconds, Gentan had climbed into his lap. She knelt on his thighs and stared dreamily into his eyes, prolonged enough to disconcert him. She slowly raised her little hands with palms facing him, in the gesture of a penitent. He wished she would blink. Breaking the eerie ritualistic aura with a smile, Red took her hands in his, which only served to shift her fascination to studying his stone fingers. Gentan became childlike again. Red pulled back his sigh of relief. For his own reasons, he just didn't want her to know.

Liz returned from her bath, dressed in a terry robe.

"Give me long enough to get dressed," she requested, "then go ask him exactly what went on here?"

"Fast shower, first," he answered, "then I'll go."

"Don't look at my tub ring," Liz directed, giving him an armload of fresh clothing. "I'll get to it when I have time."

The high-pressure shower was one of Red's enduring pleasures. He watched sand and grit swirling down the floor drain.

"Damned sand," he muttered, taking a washcloth to his ears, "in every pore and orifice..."

...

Red approached the medical wing to find Joaquin, and not surprising, Sheila was seated by his bed, holding his hand.

"Hola," Red greeted, striding into the room. Sheila prevented Joaquin from sitting up with a mock stern look and her palm at his shoulder.

"I will obey...you," Joaquin assured her, fully settling himself back to rest, then gave Hellboy a comic frown.

"She must be good for your recovery," quipped Red, after the nurse had stepped out to give the friends privacy.

"She is," Joaquin answered with pleased humour. "I may stay here forever."

"How bad is it?" Hellboy wanted to know, looking over Joaquin's bandages.

"I've been sewn together very well," the Spaniard confirmed. "I would take a walk with you – if she allowed me." About to laugh, Joaquin stopped himself, and pressed a hand to his wound. "But you have questions," he acknowledged.

"And thanks, first," Hellboy said, "for protecting my kids."

"Brown jumped at me with a knife as I opened the library door. I subdued her, and as a result of her actions, she is gone from here. A short story, ending well," Joaquin concluded.

"And Trevor?"

"He reacted to what he saw, I believe. Sheila was closest to him. Is he well?"

"He looks good, no change," Red answered.

A half hour went by like a minute as the men talked more, easy in each other's company.

With the arrival of Joaquin's pain medication, Red decided it was time to let his friend rest.

There was someone he needed to call, something he wanted explained.

...

Outside the library doors, Hellboy watched the Bureau forensic investigator demonstrate ex-agent Andrea Brown's strategy for her attack.

"It's about the size and height of the left door handle," began agent Cole. "She had already determined that her targets were inside the locked library, and waited for someone to come out. She left partial finger and palm prints there, at the top bar of the handle," Cole explained, "when she grabbed it for height leverage, jumped off the floor, and struck downwards with the cutter in her right hand."

"And kicked her own ass," concluded Red.

...

Liz stood at her dining table with her mug of coffee, too fidgety to think of sitting. She hugged herself, took a sip, set down the cup, crossed her arms, picked up the coffee again. All the while, she watched the door for her husband's return. When Red appeared, looking pensive, even his measured walk to the table carried none of his usual energy. Nodding wordlessly to his wife, he paused to lift the mug and take a long drink.

"How is he feeling, now?" she asked, waiting for the mug to descend.

Red's ironic frown morphed into a rueful semi-smile before he answered, "He said...that the action made him feel young again."

It was Liz' turn to react with a slow, pondering frown. "Why am I not surprised by that?"

In two steps, her arms surrounded his waist as she touched her forehead to his chest.

"Taking that hit to protect our kids and Sheila.." Liz reflected, with a small shiver, thinking of what had been averted.

"He promised it, to go the distance," affirmed Red.

"What would he let us give him, do for him?" she asked.

The fingers of his flesh hand slid through her hair above her ear, combing it back. She looked up at him, feeling his stone arm at her back, pulling her closer.

"What he said to me, was that we let him bring back who he really is."

At that, her eyes took on a wondering innocence, and Red just had to lean down to place a soft kiss on her chafed forehead. Liz held unmoving, knowing that his next kisses would touch her eyelids. She raised her chin gradually until her lips cushioned against his. He nudged back and sealed with her. They took their comfort from each other with no hurry. Red lifted her smoothly and set her down on the table edge, to relieve her of stretching up to his height. Standing between her thighs, he slid his hand beneath her hair to the back of her neck, as the circle of her arms rested on his wide shoulders. Liz always felt safest behind the dark of her closed eyes with her face touching his, savouring the warmth of her husband's cheek caressing hers in return. But now, he kissed her with consideration for her injured skin. Then she hugged him harder with a tiny whimper in her sharp intake of breath, dropping her head against his neck.

"The close call is all over, Babe – gone..." Red soothed.


	10. Chapter 10 Red Genealogy

**A/N: Liz and Hellboy's twins develop diverging interests and talents, and one child is so far, no problem at all. Please review!**

* * *

As Hellboy glanced over his shoulder from the couch to see his young daughter, very businesslike, bring three thick photo albums to push onto the surface of the family dining table, he turned to secretively catch the eye of his wife. Liz shrugged slightly, not yet knowing what Gentan planned to do with this collection. Going to her father with a shy smile, Gentan took his hand and tugged.

"You come, too," she said to Liz. Taking instructions to sit at the table, the parents complied.

"What about Trevor?" Liz asked.

"No," Gentan replied with a curt shake of her head, "He's doing music."

The parents could hear their son's Casio beginner's keyboard through his closed door. He was definitely getting the hang of the tune he was picking out.

"Kid's turning into a hermit in there," remarked his father.

"Single-minded," Liz contributed, "according to his teacher."

"Listen to _me,_" Gentan appealed, clearly wanting their undivided attention.

When she had it, Gentan announced without preamble, "Miss Arthur said to ask _you_ where I came from." She looked from Red to Liz and back to fix her expectant hybrid eyes upon her father. Red's own slightly panicked yellow eyes shot to his wife for an instant, and quickly realized he'd find no rescue there, as Liz tented her fingertips under her chin and awaited his answer with a silent little grin.

"Mm," he began, trying to gather his rattled thoughts, "Yeah, Baby, I know about that. I – uh, your Mom and I, we made you – and Trevor." His features lifted with relief as he concluded brilliantly, "But your Mom did all the work, so she can tell you, later. It's a big story, okay?"

"That's not what I want," Gentan clarified, not hiding her disappointment, then with a humouring look at her mother, gave a short, exasperated sigh, "Okay."

Needing his next eye contact with Liz to appear casual and untroubled at their daughter's enigmatic request, Red saw that her smile remained, only now seeming a little forced, with just a twitch of tension.

Gentan slid one of the photo albums in front of her father, and opened it.

"Is your Mom's picture in here?" she asked, with an innocent curiosity.

Now, this was promising to get pretty awkward.

"No, no picture," answered Red apologetically, unwilling to go farther.

"Can I see a picture of your father, Daddy? I looked in all these, and he isn't there."

"He is, Baby," Red tried to convince. "He worked in the library. Your Mom took his picture there, lots of times."

"But that isn't right, Daddy," Gentan insisted, with a small frown. She would have looked so adorable to Red, if he hadn't been feeling like cold, dead fingers were tearing through his gut.

"That man in the pictures _is _my father, Genny. He got sick and died before you were born, and I really wanted you-"

"No, that's not right," Gentan interrupted. "He doesn't die. He told me."

Red allowed the distant sounds of Trevor's chords and repetitive phrases to be a welcome intrusion to his mind's struggle. He contrasted the uncomplicated pursuits of his son to the desperation of finding a way to steer and distract his four year old daughter away from this quest for knowledge. She spoke so certainly of elements in their worst possible alternate reality, too much beyond her years.

Liz stood up from the table and held out her hand to her daughter. Angled away from Gentan's line of sight, Liz returned her husband's flickering expression of concern, barely readable by intention.

"Genny, come with me, now. Your Dad wants to think."

"Why?"

"Because it's good for him."

* * *

Red and Liz had been given a heads-up on Gentan's growing interest in her family forebears at a weekly conference with the twins' in-house teacher. Gentan had pressed to understand the concept of generation, specific to the role and significance of a grandfather. Miss Arthur had, of course, declined to discuss the meaning of death with her child student. But on her own, Gentan had volunteered to her teacher, that 'my red grandfather never dies, and he's waiting for me'.

"I explained to her, the simplest definition of a grandfather," said Miss Arthur.

Silent, Red was seated with his hands gripping his knees, eyes cast down as he listened.

"Have I done anything inappropriate?" the teacher asked apprehensively of the unique parents.

"No, nothing," Red answered wearily, giving her a little smile. "Your judgement was fine."

"Yes, keep doing as you've been," Liz hastened to encourage. "Gentan is just – different." Liz gave a wan smile at her own comment, knowing that the teacher need not be reminded of the clearly obvious.

And on to the topic and progress of Trevor, who on the other hand, was completely absorbed in music. He judiciously practiced with his portable keyboard, studying by ear to copy his chosen tunes, collected on an iPod. He also had a varied library of favourite videos available to him, to observe presentation.

"Trevor's tastes in selection are rather unusual for his age," the teacher remarked with all diplomacy, thinking of the advanced height and size of the four year old part-demon.

"Yes, I helped him with that," Liz admitted. "No old MacDonald's farm, or twinkling little stars for him."

"Please be sure that he doesn't neglect the rest of his homework."

Leaving the classroom, the couple had walked a short way when Red stopped, and took his wife's hand. Covering their joined hands with his stone fingers, he couldn't connect with her eyes until his jaw stopped clenching.

"Liz," he whispered in pain, "I want her back – my baby girl."

Tightening her fingers within his, Liz thought hard.

"I know what this is like for you," she whispered back, as they huddled together. "But we owe it to the kids to act natural, and supportive, strong, like it's all going well – and united, always."

Red listened, nodded. "You want us to pretend?" he finally asked.

"If we have to," she answered. Her eyes raised to his, were starkly sure.

Feeling somewhat more grounded, and glad of his partner in this, Red slipped his arm around Liz' shoulders, and the couple resumed their thoughtful walk home through the corridors.

* * *

Wanting to get on to a different subject, Liz broached, "Do you think we'll lose Sheila?"

"Why?!" Red erupted with surprise, "Is she sick?"

"Nothing like that," Liz replied. "With stuff on your mind, you've forgotten that Joaquin is taking her to Europe for two weeks."

"Is that why she's been acting all moony, and bumping into things?"

"Naturally. It's a high point of living. Don't you remember?"

"Is that supposed to be fun?" he wondered out loud.

"It's what happens before the real fun, mostly," she explained, smirking.

"Okay," he conceded, "Sure, I remember."

As they entered their quarters, they found Sheila on the couch with a photo album open on her lap, and Gentan beside her, animatedly directing the nurse's attention to go here and there.

Trevor was in his room, Sheila told them.

"Did you know you're bossy?" Liz said to Gentan, affectionately. "Not everybody wants to see all of our pictures."

Sheila's subtle lift of one eyebrow told Liz that she'd had enough of the activity.

"Oh, your new blow-dry is so hot!" Liz exclaimed, hurrying to sit at the nurse's other side. Liz lightly flipped the ends of Sheila's blonde shoulder length style, and both women radiated huge smiles. Red hitched as Liz uttered a sudden squeal of delight. He saw Liz take Sheila's hands and peer very closely. "You should have a manicure all the time! I just love the colour!"

Then the women hugged each other, giggling like schoolgirls. Red looked away from the scene for which he had no frame of reference. But he had to look again when he heard the couch repeatedly squeaking under the weight of two grown women bouncing in flushed glee on the cushions. In the midst of the noise, he heard loudly whispered chirps of, 'new shoes!' and 'four dresses!', and Liz squealed again, "Show me!" And in a flurry of legs, arms, and flashes of blonde and black, the two had jumped up off the couch, passed him by, and hurried out the door.

Not having moved from his spot, Red stood with hands on hips and stared toward the door.

"Who are you?" he thought, "and what have you done with my wife?"

As Gentan had watched the transformations of her mother and Sheila, wide-eyed and laughing, she now felt somewhat abandoned at their departure, until her father joined her on the couch and looked down at her fondly.

"What are they doing?" she asked, bemused.

"Going to look at Sheila's new stuff."

"Why were they so funny?"

"I think it's the shoes," Red decided. "New shoes make ladies go all crazy, but in a good way."

"Not _me,_" Gentan insisted.

* * *

Red heard the opening of Trevor's door, and shortly after, the boy approached the couch, looking completely pleased with himself.

"Was'up, son of mine?" Red greeted, "I hardly ever see you, anymore."

Trevor beamed, "I can play a whole song! Come listen."

"Which one?"

"Forget You."

"A good Jersey song, right!" teased Red.

"No!" Trevor protested, "Come right now!"

"Okay, I forgot," said his Dad, reaching for Gentan's hand. Red saw reluctance in her eyes. Leaning close, he said privately and evenly to her, "We're going to listen to Trevor play his song. When he's happy, we're happy for him. We do it for all of us. That's what family does."

Red stood straight, and Gentan looked up imploringly, crushed. He hadn't meant to make her sad, or afraid. She silently reached for his stone arm, hugged it tightly to her cheek. Then came a plaintive, other-world hollow voice, and he shut his eyes.

"_Father, my Lord, please forgive me!"_

He couldn't make it stop.

"_I will do as you say, Father. Forgive me!"_

Tightly suppressing a shiver, he said quickly, only for her hearing, "I do. I forgive you."

He lifted her from the couch and swung to walk to Trevor's room. He felt his daughter happily snuggle in his arms.

"Now, smile," Red instructed, praying to hear the voice he loved.

"I am, Daddy, I am!"

Red could smile himself, seeing that Trevor had muscled a fairly large chair into position for his audience. He took his seat, where Gentan elected to remain on his lap. Trevor stood at his instrument and began. He didn't just play, he attacked the keys. He showcased himself with agile, sometimes manic fingers creating the energetic melody. He looked at his Dad and smiled with a bold confidence while he performed, tilting his head slyly.

"His mother's eyes," Red thought, with deep pleasure.

Trevor had also adopted the funky flourishes, swaying his head and body to the fast rhythm. As the young musician brought it home, Red whistled and applauded hard when Trevor finished with a sky-punch. He had nailed the tune as well as any self-taught child.

Mingled with his, were the celebrations of Liz and Sheila, who had returned in time to catch the last two minutes. Having watched at the doorway, they scampered inside to hug and praise Trevor. Wisely, Liz included Gentan in the attentions.

"I'm going to learn the words," Trevor announced, "I'll show Gentan how to sing backup, and we'll do it again."

Liz looked amazed at her son's plan. Maybe his hours of studying music from how-to videos weren't as frivolous as Miss Arthur thought. Gentan hugged her brother. Red beckoned him over.

"You've got some style, son," he smiled. "When you two get that song ready, invite everybody. I'll even pay!"

* * *

When late night came and they were alone, Red quietly approached his wife. He held the photo albums in his hands.

"I'd like you to put these away, even lock them up," he requested. "It would just hurt too much to see them anymore."

Liz took them and looked into her husband's eyes. She didn't want him to shut her out.

"Again? Gentan?" she questioned, understanding.

"He made her speak, and this time, I had to answer. Made it more real. Getting these out of sight won't change a thing, I know," he admitted, sadly shaking his head. Keeping to a whisper, he hated to say it. "Nothing can bring a good grandfather back to life. But something – something has to keep a bad one in Hell!"

And Liz hated what she was thinking. The One that was forcing himself into their family, could maybe, be outmatched by the husband she was holding now.


	11. Chapter 11 Girls and Boys

**A/N: Hellboy relies on Liz' counsel to learn why Gentan, his adoring daughter, can't help being possessive of him. Their son Trevor, on the other hand, is much different...**

**Reviews, if you please, are much appreciated!**

**...**

Listening from her hiding place inside the bathroom cupboards under the twin sinks, Gentan pushed open a concealing door, crawled out, and quietly hopped up onto the countertop below the double wide mirror. She gave herself a moment to stop and breathe a circle of fog on the glass, then checked her reflection to admire the colour of her new jumpsuit. She felt satisfied of her lone possession of the large room, and her tail tapped out a rhythm of giddy suspense on the counter surface as she turned to face front and sat down at the edge to wait, swinging her shoes.

She had made everything ready the way he liked it, knowing her Dad would be coming in any minute. She heard him now, his voice nearing the bathroom door as he spoke to Mom. She could hardly wait to show him. Her face wreathed in a welcoming smile as the door swung aside, and Hellboy feigned a stagger of surprise at seeing his little daughter perched beside the sink, complete with her favourite backpack.

"What've you got there, Doll-face?" he grinned, stepping up and looking over the countertop.

"I'm helping you. Look!" Gentan turned aside to reach with both hands for his electric palm sander, hidden behind her. She picked up the plug and aimed it at the wall outlet.

"Mm, Genny," he cautioned, "I don't want you to play with this, okay? It could hurt you." Red made a mental note to lock it up from now on.

"It doesn't hurt _you,_ Daddy!"

"That's 'cause Daddy's head is old and hard," he answered, making her giggle.

"I'm not playing. And I can't get hurt – it's not plugged in yet."

"And, like I told you, Baby," he reminded, "you're not allowed to switch it on, and you can't get too close when I'm using it."

"Because I could get stuff in my eyes that hurts, I know! But I can watch up close, now. Look!" Gentan opened her backpack and held up for his inspection, her diving mask with attached snorkel. "I don't get water in my eyes and in my nose when I swim with Uncle Abe, and I won't get _any_ stuff in my eyes when I put this on," she concluded with confidence.

Hellboy had to smile at her ingenuity of preparation, just for the privilege of sitting to watch him perform the mundane task of shaving down his horns.

Busily serious, Gentan dug into her backpack. She reached to take hold of his stone hand, and turned it palm up. "This is for you to wash your face," she continued, placing a terry cloth in his hand, "and a towel, for drying."

Hellboy thanked his daughter for her planning and arrangements, and fondly tousled her black, chin length hair. It didn't take much for Gentan to steer the conversation into uncomfortable territory, as she touched the conical tips of her own little horns.

"I want to be the same as you, Daddy, so fix them for me?" she requested.

Surprised, Hellboy took the sander and put it aside. "Isn't Mom taking you out to see a movie in the media center, soon?"

"I want to stay here with _you_," Gentan declared, defiantly donning her mask.

Hellboy regarded her beloved and determined hybrid-yellow eyes, raised up at him from behind the convex plastic.

"I won't do anything to make you look different than you are, Gentan," he said, gently firm, "Never."

"You do it to _your _horns," she accused. "Why do _you_ make yourself look different than you are?"

"I don't think my look is so great for my beautiful girl." His objection was given in a lighthearted tone, intended to dissuade her from further interrogation on the forbidden subject of his naturally long horns. He'd prayed hard and often, that she'd forget how the Fallen One had given her such knowledge.

"I don't care that I'm a girl."

"Baby, some day, I think you will."

Gentan gathered herself to sit cross-legged on the counter, with dive-masked gaze following as her father took up the sander.

"Are you breathing through your mouth?" Red asked her, concerned that she not inhale horn particles and sanding dust.

"Oh, like this." She readied the snorkel mouthpiece to go in place. "Now?"

He plugged in the small sander, turned on the humming motor, and raised the tool to grind away newly grown length at the flat surfaces of his horn stubs, turning the short bursts of sparks away from his little spectator. Her delight as she hugged her knees, and her creamy red cheeks dimpled with smiles for him, were warmly charming to her father. When he had finished, he made a short evaluation at the mirror, and brushed the grit from his shirt.

"Same on both sides?" he asked her, turning his face left and right. "You know Mom wants us to keep cr- the sinks clean, right?" He flushed the minute residues down the drain with a blast of water.

Gentan pushed her mask up to her forehead, looking him over with appraising eyes. Then she beamed a smile as she approved, "You're – um - handsome, Daddy!"

"Me?" he retorted.

"I asked my teacher," she explained pragmatically, stretching to the sink to wet the washcloth under a faucet, "It's the word for boys – and you." She wrung out the cloth with earnest efficiency, then fixed a melting gaze on him, holding it out. Her father winked and leaned into her reach. She put up the cloth with both hands and gently washed the fine dust from his face, and the top of his head. When she was satisfied that the job had been done well, she took the towel and in the same way, dried him. When he opened his eyes, he saw Gentan looking cleverly pleased with her assistance – and him.

"Thank you, Baby," he said simply, straightening up. It was time to stop this path of her emotional train, and return to the rest of the family.

...

When they emerged from the bathroom, Liz walked up to Gentan.

"Let's not be late. We have to leave, right now."

"Oookay," Gentan sighed, going to put away her backpack.

"Go see Trevor," Liz whispered to Red. "He has something to ask you."

Her husband acknowledged with a slight nod, and waited a bit longer to see his girls off to their afternoon movie.

He tapped at his son's door, and getting no response, knocked harder. Trevor pulled open the door.

"Am I in the right man-cave?" Red chuckled, stepping in as Trevor again sealed up his sanctum. His father eyed the inside of the boy's door. "Egg cartons?"

"It's to soundproof," Trevor said. "The kitchen saves them for me. Fletch showed me how."

"Ah, good old Fletch," mused Hellboy, scanning a wall, where the cartons had encroached a little further. "This is okay with your Mom, to glue these to your walls?"

"She's helping. And see what Fletch gave me?" Trevor hurried to his armchair, and stood beside, picking up his latest treasure. "It's a guitar!"

"A Fender Telecaster, and amplifier," noted Red, having seen in the past year, that his son's passions were heading in one direction, and no other. He took in hand the obviously well-used guitar, for a closer examination.

"Fletch gave you these?"

"Not really, yet," Trevor sighed, "He says when I make some money, then I can buy them."

"How much?"

"Ten dollars, but I can have them, and he'll wait."

"That's – pretty fair," Hellboy said, thinking that the Bureau's third-ranked cook was a deeper well, than he'd known.

"Fletch has fifteen guitars, so he knows all about them." Trevor couldn't contain himself. "And he can play everything! And he'll teach me, if you say it's okay!"

"Are you good friends with Fletch, already?" Red asked his hopeful looking son. "If he teaches you here, it's okay."

"Wow!" Trevor breathed in relief. "I have to learn to play, get some gigs, and make ten dollars!"

"Gigs," repeated Red. "I think he'll have you learning more than guitar."

"We can start with the best riffs and licks in rock history! That's what he said!" Trevor danced for joy.

"I'll call Fletch for a visit." Patched through to the kitchen's extension, Hellboy spoke to the man. "He's off duty in ten minutes," Red informed his son, "We'll go see him."

"I want it!" enthused Trevor, pointing to his guitar. He picked it up and slung the strap over to rest on his thin shoulder. The instrument hung past the level of the boy's knees, making it difficult to walk.

"Just for now." Red shortened the strap, arranging the guitar to be carried at Trevor's back. "And bend your tail this way. Don't try to run."

Father and son walked the corridors to meet Fletch, and found him seated at a table in the cafeteria. Now, Hellboy took renewed notice of the man, whom he had ever only seen covered in kitchen whites. His short blond dreadlocks swayed as he stood up, and his sleeveless shirt revealed both arms covered with all manner and colours of rock-affiliated tattoos.

"Hey, cat!" Fletch hailed Trevor, as the new arrivals approached.

Trevor's face shone worshipfully at Fletch as Red lifted off the guitar and placed it on the table. The boy scrambled up onto a chair. Breathless, Trevor couldn't wait to crow, "Dad says it's okay! We can do lessons!"

"Good times, Trev. I'll bet your Dad has things to ask me?" He cocked an eyebrow at Red.

"Why didn't I know that you're a musician?" Red began, "when you've been cooking for me, all these years?" He glanced down at the adornments of several chunky rings and a chain bracelet that Fletch never wore to work.

"Fame eludes most of us, my pancake-loving friend," Fletch smiled. "These days, I make a good haul when I get studio sessions, supplement with an average of three students per week. But my bank gives me love if I have steady, salaried employment."

"Did you tour?"

"For me, it was a young man's game," Fletch reminisced. "I stopped being in demand, at age thirty." His eyes, with a signal of caution underlying, flicked over to Trevor, then back to Red.

Pointing to the kitchen door, Hellboy took Trevor by the shoulder and whispered close, "Head in there and tell Rocky that I asked for him to please, make you a big sundae. And remember to thank him."

With his youngster out of earshot, Hellboy returned his attention to Fletch.

"I've been clean and sober, twelve years," Fletch told him. "Thought you should know."

Red nodded, and took a moment to reflect. "That took guts." Then levelling a gaze of skeptical humour at Fletch, "A Fender and amplifier for a ten-spot?"

"A bit older, but safe and serviceable, a decent starter. My girl threatened to move out if I didn't sell at least one of my babies. Sorry, Red. I kind of went over your head with encouraging Trevor."

"You did," Red answered, "but it's better he found someone we know, right here. He's been working hard to teach himself keyboard. How old do you think he is?"

"Nine, ten?" guessed Fletch.

"He's six."

The man's eyebrows shot upward at the revelation.

"His hopes are way up," Hellboy confided. "It looks like you could be an important role model for him, maybe even a hero -"

"Red! Whoa!" Fletch leaned forward, instantly anxious to cool the height of a father's concerns. "I know I look a ways off the scale, but I won't let him trip that I'm above who you are in his eyes. I'll hold back nasty slang, and there ain't no hatin' lyrics in instrumentals."

Good. Fletch got it.

"What's the freight?"

"I charge standard. We can use the free classroom, after hours. I'll spot you two lessons to gauge his guitar aptitude, then if he's got something, you make it rain."

"Shoot," directed Hellboy.

"Sixty per, including charts. Oh, yeah, and this! – Trevor showed me one time, how he can roll these little fireballs from his mouth. I told him, no more. I'd appreciate if you'd lay down the law." Fletch sat back in his chair, seeing Trevor now exiting the kitchen.

"Solid and done," agreed Red, fist-bumping with Fletch as Trevor arrived, setting two ice cream creations on the table.

"I got one for my sister," he said.

"Nice one," Hellboy approved, helping him into his guitar sling.

"See you next week, Trev," smiled Fletch, standing to slide a wide brimmed stetson over his dreads. From the chair beside, he picked up a motorcycle helmet.

"Flip side, Dude," Trevor answered happily.

Holding both tall sundae glasses in his right hand, Red took his son home.

"Now, do you want to eat this right away?" Hellboy asked, holding out the ice cream to Trevor.

"I'll wait for Gentan to come home."

Opening the freezer to store the desserts inside, Red smirked, "You're a better man than me, my son."

...

Red had saved up all his questions for Liz that night, needing his wife as the only sounding board for everything that had him wondering about the kids.

"These are more rites of passage for you, as a father," Liz said to her husband, as they shared one pillow, face to face. "They're growing up, and in some ways, resisting that."

"Okay," he accepted. "First, what makes Genny want to be extra close, like she was, today?"

"It's a little girl thing," Liz explained. "They just love to watch their daddies shave. I did, just him and me, alone. I thought it was so fascinating - the white foamy lather, how he put it on his face from the can, the way he used his razor. We used to talk. It's an adoration. And every little girl thinks her own Dad is the handsomest in the world."

Liz stroked Hellboy's cheek. "But, _you_," she murmured. "Nothing to ever shave, or cut. All so smooth." Her hand scooted down to his bare thigh. "Smooth, _everywhere."_

"Stop that!" he laughed low, trapping her travelling hand, "until after -" He needed to continue being enlightened on this phase of his daughter's behaviour.

"You must know by now," she laughed back, "it's a big girl thing." Liz spoke on, obligingly. "What I think, is that Genny, at this age, wants reassurance that she'll always be your baby. But the part of her that's growing up, is finding ways to baby and mother _you, _to show her love."

"Does she do it for you?" he asked.

"She's not likely to. She helped me wash my hair, once, but I'm not quite as important as you are to her."

"Doesn't seem fair," he muttered.

"Very natural, though," Liz replied. "And then, she wants to identify even more, by looking like you, as far as she can."

"I'm gonna keep talking her out of that ambition," he vowed. With years of contemplating the maturing faces of his children, Hellboy came to realize that they had developed actual eyebrow arcs. He was pleased that this human feature, plus the inherited softer lines of their bone structure, made them lean more towards Liz' facial appearance. He hoped it could make their lives somehow easier.

"You were the only girl child I ever knew," he said, "that I ever watched grow up."

Red's wistful memory resonated in Liz, and she pictured them both in their shared past.

"But from ages zero to eleven, no girls to learn anything about." He looked at her as though just discovering. "You changed a lot!"

She had to smile with genuine amusement. "And you didn't."

"I had years to fall in love with you," he admitted. "And every year, you were different."

"You thought about me, as much as that?"

"You drove me crazy."

"And I'm so glad I did."

Even as he gave her a kiss for her pleasured smile, he wasn't finished with the topic at hand.

"Keep me up on whatever I should know about Genny?" he requested. "I wasn't exactly a typical kid, either, so I just have to do my best with Trevor."

"Trevor doesn't seem to care at all about being more demon, or less," she said, "and going by Fletch's account, he's at ease enough with his fire to show it off to select friends, and keep it secret from us."

"Have I missed anything about how he treats you?" Red wanted to know.

"He seems to like me a lot – pretty much until I bug him to do his regular homework. We'll both have to bug him equally, on that. I had to talk him out of sleeping with his guitar."

"He likes me a lot, too, especially after today. Do you think Genny could get jealous?"

"That, we'll have to handle as it goes. He studies music so much, he makes no time to spend with her, and has no inclination to be clingy with us."

"Genny's a strong swimmer, and she can run like the wind," Red bragged, "but the time I spend keeping her busy, coaching her, isn't enough to stop her from investigating my past - " he trailed off, having no answer for himself.

"I know," Liz sympathized. "But on the other hand, by being such a digger, she's the one excelling at school." Red understood her reasoned way of restoring the balance.

"Now, how do you feel about letting Fletch give Trevor so much of what he wants?"

"I worried at first that maybe - Trev might get too attached to him," Red answered with a frown of concentration, "and stop caring what we think."

"Fletch earns high points for letting his halo get tarnished. Our little scamp was unpleasantly surprised that he'd turn him in to us for fire play. He's going to sit for another lecture on the responsibility. No flames without my instruction and supervision."

"Yep, Trev knows – any more of that, and his lessons are history."

"We don't need to feel slighted by any of this development of independence," Liz said.

"Come to think of it, Trevor hung around just one time to watch me do my horns," Red recalled, "and that was it."

"It's a little girl thing," Liz repeated. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

Red smoothed back the side of Liz' hair. "And it goes the other way, too," he said, "because I like to watch you doing your eyelashes with that, uh -" Red searched for the word.

"Mascara," finished Liz.

"Right! I like that. But it's all you do."

"Well, I don't let you see _everything_ about my grooming," Liz answered intriguingly, "and – I get that little girl thing back, when I watch _you_, working out."

"I like that, too," he whispered, eyes closing as his wife lowered her lips affectionately to his brow. She trailed feathery kisses down his neck.

"Our door is locked, and I've got all the 'after' you want," she invited, pressing her petite curves against his torso.

"And all the 'now'," he growled, as she curled her warm fingers around him.

"Forget everything, but now." As their caressing kisses swept them into their exclusive shelter of stolen pleasures, her hand softly stroked and cradled until their need for each other could stand no more delay. He breached the first resistant inches of her soft, enclosing heat, with so much more to feel as he opened her deeply. Her blissful mind clouded over, knowing only his voracious presence within her. Too conscientious during their days, they limited displays of affection to holding hands and chaste kisses. Even now in their sanctuary, they quieted the exertion of their breathing, their sounds of passion. Time for this bonding was precious. No opportunity was to be lost. Grinding through the final frenzied strokes together, they basked in their shared relief.

"Goodnight," Liz sighed, burying her back against the hard cushion of his chest.

Bending down to her ear, he whispered, "It's not complicated, loving _you_."

"_Among all of us,"_ Liz thought to herself, _"the kids will keep on challenging what love is. I hope they'll be lucky and wise enough in life and love, to get all the way to 'uncomplicated'."_


End file.
